


Challenges in your eyes

by CuddlyKoala



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry is Confused, Hogwarts Founders Era, M/M, Slytherin's Locket likes messing with people, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7375147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyKoala/pseuds/CuddlyKoala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry landed in medieval Hogsmeade courtesy of a very familiar and ugly piece of jewelry, he thought things were bad. But life is made of bad things, good things and worse things. He just wished he could have decided in which order he would experience them.<br/>He also wished he knew in which category Lord Slytherin's stalking was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Locket's Power

**Author's Note:**

> All right. So. I wrote this two years ago and it has been gathering virtual dust on my hard drive ever since. English is not my first language and I don't have a beta, so feel free to point out any (horrendous or not) mistake.

“I’m truly sorry, Lord Potter. There is no way you can go back to the field before at least two months. I must stress the importance of rest and careful tending. Your injury is not going to heal in a couple of days with a Pepper-up potion!”

The Healer’s tone was part pleading, part indignant. He had, like several of his colleagues, an extensive experience with Aurors’ attitude when wounded, and with young Lord Potter’s in particular. He did get himself in the most extravagant situations sometimes.  While Healer Bryne understood he felt his duty to take upon himself most of the world’s problems, it didn’t mean he approved. He refrained for the fifth time in one hour to remind his patient that throwing himself between his very capable teammates and curses was definitely not good for one’s health and he had only himself to blame (and a bit the curse caster too, but, honestly, this one was only doing what was expected of him. Why couldn’t Lord Potter do the same?).

“There is nothing else I can do to hasten the process?” the Auror pleaded.

“You can take your potions, rest, rest some more, and by that I don’t mean doing acrobatics on a broom as I saw you doing the last time” Healer Bryne answered, his voice curter than he initially intended. He winced internally and added, more softly, this time: “This is not the end of the world, Lord Potter. You are going to heal without lasting consequences. Most people would be overjoyed at having some time for themselves.”

“What am I even going to do for two whole months?” This time, there was a definite edge of despair.

“I don’t know! Clean your house!”

***

That was how Harry found himself cleaning his house, as per his Healer’s suggestion. Considering the amount of work needed to get rid of all the junk in the Black ancestral home, it probably wasn’t what Bryne had in mind, but Harry couldn’t deny the idea was sound and its execution very necessary, a conception the portrait of Walburga Black didn’t share, but then again, she didn’t like sharing anything and Harry had learnt long ago how to tune her shrill voice off. He actually kept her on the wall to discourage visitors and because, in a way, he felt she was just very alone and didn’t deserve to be kept behind a dark curtain all the time.

Besides, it was fun to hiss parseltongue insults at her and see her bowing her head with a respect mixed with fright. Harry had had to research long and hard to understand why he had retained this particular knowledge. Turned out it was, once again, Voldemort’s fault. Not that it wasn’t cool to speak to snakes. It just tended to make people uncomfortable. Actually, according to the numerous books about souls he had read, souls weren’t like Lego cubes to slot themselves against each other in an orderly manner (his words, not the books’. And it had been hilarious to watch Hermione explaining what Lego cubes were to Ron). Apparently, souls were more like streams. They kept their core body to themselves, but, when in presence of another, they mixed in some areas. And Voldemort’s soul, being years older and stronger than baby Harry’s, had leaked some of itself in quite a few parts of Harry’s soul, merging the two so properly they couldn’t be completely separated. (That part hadn’t been so fun to explain and everyone in the secret had agreed not to say a word to anyone. Ever.)

He kept the attics for last, knowing full well it would be there he would find the most interesting artifacts. Some of them, he was duty bound to give the Ministry. It didn’t mean he couldn’t experiment a bit with them first. Within reason, of course. He dragged his limp up the stairs and stopped short when he saw what was expecting him. He knew there were a lot of things there, but still… actually, he didn’t remember that much from the last time he came, just five years ago, after the war. Hermione had encouraged him not to throw away the stuff from their hunt, telling him he would like to find them when he would be older and telling stories to his children and grandchildren. He started opening boxes, setting what he kept, what he threw away and what needed to be handled with great care on three different piles. Upon opening a wooden box, he stopped breathing.

This was the Locket. Slytherin’s Locket. He had no idea he had that here. The silver necklace looked as blackened and warped as it had the last time he saw it. Slowly, unsure of himself, he let his hand hover over it. He felt… drawn to it. A shiver went down his spine. Experimentally, he hissed _Open_. He wasn’t even surprised when it obeyed his command. It wasn’t possible… No, the bit of soul was well and truly destroyed. That being said, it was supposed to have been ensured by the definitive destruction of its vessel. Said vessel was still very much existing, though not intact.

Harry could now feel its magic, humming and hissing. When he focused, he could even discern some pictures, shared, he assumed, by the Locket. It made more or less sense, in a way. It was Slytherin’s Locket, a powerful artifact in its own right and an heirloom of Slytherin himself. Trying to destroy it with another Founder’s heirloom had, perhaps, not been their smartest move. To follow that train of thoughts, it probably wouldn’t have worked any better with basilisk venom considering its owner had a pet basilisk.

Harry gave it a nudge with his magic. The Locket seemed to grow heavier in his hand. The pictures he received were clearer now and he could make out the form of a castle, Hogwarts maybe, and many people. Sounds were beginning to filter through, getting louder by the second. He tried to let go of the Locket, only to find his hand glued to it. Harry grabbed his wand, ready to blast the damn thing to hell and back when he felt a pull on his whole being.


	2. In the rain, in medieval Scotland

Harry landed with a wet sound, his feet slipping in the mud. His Auror training had taken care of his chronic inability to use any kind of wizarding transportation, save for apparition and brooms without ending up splayed on the floor. In the few seconds it took him to regain his bearings, he was soaked through. Casting a water repellent charm to protect himself from further damage, he cursed the impossibility to use a drying charm after the water repellent one.

Taking in his surroundings, Harry stopped, breathless. The houses he could see looked old. Medieval, in fact. Like half-timbered, wattle and daub medieval. He remembered some houses in Hogsmeade which were built that way, but they seemed ancient and on the verge of collapsing. Though these one weren’t exactly sparkling new, they certainly looked better. By the way, speaking of Hogsmeade, there was something familiar about this place… Harry’s train of thought got derailed by a kneazle trying to get to a dry place as quickly as possible. So this was a wizarding village. He could see now the wards protecting the houses, though there was something really weird about them. They looked… rough. As if the power necessary to erect them had been poured into the construction, but the finest points such as knots, shields to reinforce specific weaker areas had been ignored.

Harry turned on himself, trying to see if they were all done the same way and blinked. And then blinked again, because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Yet there wasn’t any doubt. No wonder the general layout of this village had seemed familiar. They were dominated by Hogwarts Castle, which meant he was in Hogsmeade. Medieval Hogsmeade.

 _How was this even possible?_ He couldn’t be looking at a medieval version of Hogwarts. Yet, somehow, he was. He was sure of it. This place would always be home to him. His thoughts kept jumping in a loop, chasing after one another, without any kind of order or input from his brain.

Harry understood he was freaking out. He was perfectly entitled to it. He had just landed in medieval Scotland, in the middle of autumn, judging by the leaves on the ground and the frankly rotten weather, he had no idea how to reverse the process, he was hungry and there wasn’t anyone to see him. Yes. Perfectly entitled to it. And did he mention he was wet and hungry? Oh, and that night was about to fall?

He took stock of his options quickly. He could ask for lodging in one of the houses. They probably even had an inn. Problem was, though he had some money on him, he rather doubted the currency in use in his time was similar here. At least the design on the coins would have changed, if nothing else. The wizarding world was conservative, but not to that extent.

He could go camping. As an Auror, he was perfectly capable of conjuring a tent and various accessories. Besides, he had lived in the wild before. He could do it again. However, he didn’t know anything about the possible dangers of that time or about the laws in use. He seemed to remember vaguely that medieval territories were controlled by lords who taxed passersby. He wasn’t sure if it applied to the wizarding world, but he wasn’t willing to take any chance.

Or he could go to Hogwarts. It was a school and therefore should be hospitable to a stranger in need. Not that he was really a stranger. There should be a warm meal, a comfortable bed and no need to pay for anything. He would have to answer questions but he felt up to spinning a convincing story. Besides, he needed to research his circumstances: how had he landed here, why, and more importantly, how would he go back. And there should be books in Hogwarts, even if he didn’t expect the Library to be as fully stocked as it was in his time.

Harry would have apparated to the extreme edges of the wards but knew better than to try this in his state. He was exhausted, famished, and distraught. He really didn’t need to splinch himself on top of that. Walking it would be. It was an unpleasant trek upwards. He kept slipping and tripping and the wind was getting stronger by the minute. When he left the village, it was a full-fledged storm, offering next to no visibility. Thankfully, he had never forgotten the road.

Instead of the customary fifteen minutes, it took him nearly forty minutes to reach the gates. Battling against the wind, the rain, the night that had settled in barely ten minutes, even overpowered _Lumos_ couldn’t do much. Harry felt more tired by the minute. He had never been so happy to see the forbidding high wooden doors. When he made to step inside, he felt the wards physically parting and rustling around him. Had he been more alert, he would have done more than barely notice the fact. As it was, he just thought it another item on a list of strange occurrences. After getting dumped in medieval Hogsmeade, one learnt to put weird things into perspective.

His sluggish brain informed him too late that the sound he was hearing was actually rapid footsteps. He turned around and saw four people running toward him. He made to raise his hands to show he didn’t mean any harm to anyone but, either he was too slow or the universal peace gesture wasn’t in use during medieval times, because they raised their wands and four red beams struck him.

    ***

They were enjoying a loud meal in the Great Hall with the students when they felt a ripple in the wards. Alarmed, they looked at each other and jumped from their respective seat to run toward the source of the disturbance, Godric adding a booming command to the students not to move from the Hall.

It was a very small person to cause such a huge problem. Now Salazar knew power came in all shape and size, but this one was quite tiny. And he didn’t put up any kind of fight. Why then did the wards deem necessary to resonate that way? Clearly, he wasn’t a danger. Not right now. Though… Salazar narrowed his eyes. He was feeling something strange. Under the pretense to check the stranger for hidden weapons, he uncovered his neck. There lay something that felt and looked a lot like the necklace he was wearing at his own throat, only black, half-melted and twisted.

That was… interesting.


	3. Breaking the fast with the Founders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meeting.

Harry woke up quickly. His training was too deeply ingrained to do otherwise. He didn’t move a muscle at first, checking first for any threat around him and letting the memory of the previous day flood him. He bit back a groan when all the weirdness of the day coalesced once again in a bright and loud mass. He spent several minutes organizing his thoughts, breathing softly, so as to not trip the monitoring spell he could feel coating him. When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with the familiar stones of Hogwarts, not a single tapestry or portrait in sight. He wasn’t sure in which part of the Castle he was. It was actually possible the layout had changed a lot during the centuries. It was, after all, a magical castle.

When he felt ready, he took an inspiration and sat up. Though not a sound could be heard, Harry felt clearly the alarm waking, alerting whoever it was who cast it. Sure enough, less than ten seconds later, a chestnut haired woman came into his room (holding cell?) at a brisk pace. She was pretty, Harry decided, with kind eyes and crinkles around them that spoke of laughter and smiles.

She was wary, though. Her stance was defensive, her wand in hand, even if held loosely at her side. Deceptively loosely. Harry could see she was ready to stun him again in a heartbeat if he so much as moved in a threatening way. Careful not to make himself into a target, he opened his hands, laying them flat on his thighs, palms up.

“Greetings, Lady. I am sorry. I do not know your name.” To Harry’s everlasting relief, the permanently etched translation spells every Auror had to get done did their job. She didn’t relax but neither did her eyes dull with incomprehension.

“I am Lady Helga Hufflepuff, young wizard, and it’s not polite not to offer yours first, considering how you intruded in the Castle.”

Lady Helga Hufflepuff, as in… the Founders? Harry carefully schooled his features in order to conceal his shock. Five years of dealing in politics had taught him this useful trick. At the same time, he realized he couldn’t use his name. By the time of Hogwarts’ foundation, the Potters were already a well-known wizarding family. Harry didn’t how common the name was, but he figured it best to err on the side of caution.

“Harry Evans, My Lady. May I ask why I am detained? I am just a traveler who got caught in a storm and sought shelter in the nearby Castle.”

Lady Hufflepuff scoffed. “Do you even know where you are, Master Evans?”

Lying would gain him nothing. If they planned to interrogate him, they would find out soon enough.

“I would assume the famed Hogwarts Castle.”

“And where were you heading, initially?” Harry couldn’t figure, for the life of him, how Hufflepuff had gotten the reputation of being a kind and soft old lady. This woman was anything but soft. She wasn’t unkind either. Just a tiny bit formidable. Had he had her as an instructor, he wouldn’t have wanted to cross her. Regrettably, it meant he couldn’t try to charm his way out of this one: there wasn’t anything else than Hogwarts for miles around.

“I wanted to visit a friend quite a few days of travel north of here. In a village called Angus on Mail. Perhaps you know it?”

“No. I do not. What do you do for a living? Your clothing, for all it was muddy from your travels, seem to be of superior quality, fit for a Lord of very high standing. I have never seen such fine needlework actually.”

Thank Merlin, Harry had decided a few years ago that wizarding clothes were actually more comfortable than muggle ones. Showing up in medieval times in jeans and baskets would have… complicated things, to say the least. He assumed the fine needlework she was referring to was the product of a sewing machine, because this robe was old and more fit for household duties than anything else.

His momentary lack of understanding must have shown, because she sighed and clarified: “You are not just a weary traveler, are you? Considering your age, I would say you are the runaway son of some Lord. Either you are shirking your duties, or you are running from the law. Which is it?”

Harry was speechless. Seriously? Did that kind of things happen so often it was her first assumption? Maybe he should have paid better attention in History classes.

“Neither, Lady Hufflepuff. I assure you, I am not running away from anything, least of all the law as I am a soldier or my family, as I don’t have any.”

Soldier was the closest he could come to his actual profession. Did they even have Aurors in this time? He seemed to remember there were some people who played the part in muggle towns, but he had no idea how the medieval wizarding world was organized.

Lady Hufflepuff sighed, her eyes softening a bit. “Would you be ready to swear on your magic that you do not mean any harm to Hogwarts or any of its inhabitants?”

Rather than answer, Harry executed himself, offering her a genuine smile. “I swear on my magic I do not mean any harm to Hogwarts or any of its inhabitants.”

She handed him his wand and beckoned him to follow her. Harry recognized some of the corridors they took, but, obviously, Hogwarts had changed a lot in almost a millennium.

***

They arrived in a small room with a round table circled by an equally round bench. The part of Harry who had learnt some woodworking with Hagrid approved. It was very nice craftsmanship. The always on his toes and on the lookout for any threat Auror part of Harry was literally quacking. If the woman accompanying him was Hufflepuff, the three other persons around that table were the three remaining founders. He was in a fine mess. Maybe coming clean about his being there would be the best policy. Besides, they were the Founders and known to be the most powerful and knowledgeable wizards and witches of their time. If anyone could help him, it would be them.

They stood up at their entrance. Harry couldn’t guess if it were meant for Lady Hufflepuff, for their new guest or if the rules of courtesy were really different in that time. Just to be on the safe side, he bowed his head enough to indicate respect but not enough to let them think he was a commoner. It wouldn’t fit with the picture Lady Hufflepuff already had of him.

They returned the bow then studied him in silence with inquisitive eyes. The one he assumed was Gryffindor was watching him with unabashed curiosity. His most distinguishing features were his grey eyes and his large, very large, hands. He was solidly built, tall and broad-shouldered with blond auburn highlighted hair and beard.

 Next to him, dark-haired, slender Rowena Ravenclaw. Harry couldn’t even guess at her eye colour. Though her neighbour’s size dwarfed her somewhat, she was actually a very tall woman, clearly taller than Harry. Her gaze was clear and far reaching and Harry remembered there were rumours saying she was a Seer. Even if she weren’t, he could see where such rumours came from.

After her, an equally dark-haired man. This could only be Salazar Slytherin. The Locket grew heavy and warm against his chest. Definitely Slytherin, then. He was… striking. Not beautiful, far from it, but fascinating. Part of it probably came from his red eyes. The last time Harry had seen such red eyes had been in the eyes of his descendant. Apparently, dark magic ran in the bloodline. Where these eyes had only furthered Voldemort’s alienness and inhumanity, on Slytherin, they were mesmerizing.

He was tall, too, as tall as Gryffindor, though more lightly built. However, Harry had no doubt this wizard could pack a lot of strength and speed. He just hid it well. He was very neatly kept too, with hair drawn in a strict ponytail and a short trimmed beard.  His head was slightly tilted, as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle and Harry’s heart missed a beat when he realized there was a strong possibility he has seen his Locket.

Lady Hufflepuff broke the silence.

“My friends, allow me to introduce Master Harry Evans, a traveler on his way north. To put everyone at ease, he graciously agreed to take an oath not to harm anyone.”

“On his way north? There isn’t much up there.” Gryffindor’s voice was incredulous.

All right. Time to take a dive and come clean.

“I am afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with Lady Hufflepuff. I beg her forgiveness for my deception, but you will understand I couldn’t tell anything as long as I didn’t have more information on who my hosts were. I am a time-traveller.”

There was a rustling noise around the table as they shifted in surprise. Only Slytherin seemed unruffled.  

Before they could accuse him of lying, he clarified: “An accidental time-traveller. I come from the year 2002 and I really don’t know how I have ended up here, except that it involved something I probably shouldn’t have touched and I have no idea how to get back. I had hoped that, maybe, you could help on that account.”

Finally, Ravenclaw spoke, in a clear soprano which carried far. “An accidental time-traveller? I do not deny that you are telling the truth. Why would you even bother fabricating something so unbelievable? However, I fail to understand how this is possible. Magic sometimes works in mysterious ways but this is practically unheard of.”

Gryffindor leaned forward to peer at Harry from a closer distance. “In the meantime, the lad does need to eat and a place to live. I say he can stay here.”

Harry sent him a grateful smile, relieved by the gruff generosity and practicality.

They all sat down on the bench. He was having breakfast with the Founders. Seriously, what was it with his life? Another voice interrupted his musings. A cold and cutting tenor. “And how was it that you acquired these wounds on your chest and legs?”

“I came in the way of a nasty curse, Lord Slytherin.”

“This seems quite serious for being a simple accident, Master Evans.”

“I can assure you, this wasn’t an accident. The caster was very intent on causing harm.”

“You happen to be in the way of a lot of problems, Master Evans.”

Harry laughed, mirthlessly. He couldn’t help it. “You have no idea, Lord Slytherin, no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I took several convenient shortcuts. Sue me. *Bad, bad Koala*


	4. Garden snakes and Basilisks

Harry looked around. The guest room he had been offered in one of the towers was warm and comfortable, but bare of decoration. The bed was oak, covered with soft neutral beige blankets; the desk was a simple but sturdy oak table. There wasn’t any bedside table. He had visited the lavatory and bathroom earlier. To his huge relief, the installations weren’t that medieval. He vaguely recalled a speech from Hermione pertaining to how advanced the Romans had been with plumbing, with pipes, more or less running water and functional latrines. To him, it looked a bit like what she had described, with a dash of magic to help things along. He could say goodbye to long indulgent hot showers for the time being, but at least he wouldn’t have to bathe in the Lake.

He was bored. Plain and simple. When one was used to regular physical activity, being restricted in such a way was unbearable. It was bad enough when he could at least clean the house to stay busy. Here, it was worse. Besides, as he didn’t know anything about the state of Healing Magic in this time, he deemed it better no to do anything that could hinder his recovery.

Well, reading shouldn’t harm his wounds. Hopefully, the Library was located at the same place he remembered. Half an hour later, a pile of books in hands, Harry found himself wandering through the castle. He didn’t want to go back to his depressing room but he did want some peace. He arrived on the third floor, right in front of where the Room of Requirements should be. Experimentally, he started pacing, thinking about a cosy living-rom. When the doors appeared, he chuckled slightly. Lady Rowena _was_ a genius.

Three hours and burning eyes later, Harry stood up, yawning. Those translating spells had worked better than expected on speech, but written words were another thing entirely. Besides, these people had the weirdest penmanship. Very pretty and nearly illegible.

He left the room, his books in hand. And stopped right in his tracks. Slytherin was there and couldn’t have missed him leaving the Room of Requirements.

“I see you have found Rowena’s sanctuary.”

Rowena’s sanctuary? Harry wasn’t aware it had been a place reserved for her. He had always thought she created it to help students in need. Slytherin read his stunned expression correctly.

“She will not mind. This place has been made to bring assistance to those in need. I was just surprised you found it so quickly. Or perhaps, you know it from the future?” His expression didn’t give away anything more than a polite interest.

“Yes. I was a Hogwarts student. The Room of Requirements helped me many times.”

“It’s good to know Hogwarts will endure for so long.”

“I can imagine. Obviously, I can’t tell you much for fear of changing the future, but at least, I can tell you that, though the school will know some dark hours, it will always survive and be a home to a great deal of young wizards.”Harry couldn’t help the sincerity from creeping up in his voice. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You are one of them.” It wasn’t a question.

Harry nodded, not trusting himself not to blurt out too much.

Salazar crossed his hands in his back. “Finding Rowena’s sanctuary must not have been easy. Hogwarts was specifically built in order to protect numerous secrets and not reveal all of them to the same person.”

Harry knew he was baiting him. It didn’t stop him from rising to it.

“I have spent enough time in Hogwarts that, even if I can’t say I know all its secrets, I know the castle better than anyone else in my time.”

“There is only one way to access my own sanctuary. Only my descendant could do it.” It was obvious the presence of the Locket had awoken Slytherin’s suspicions.

“I am not your descendant, Lord Slytherin. _But I accessed your Chamber nonetheless_.” This time, he had managed to stun the older wizard.

“How can you speak parseltongue if you are not of my descent? You must be, even if remote.”

“No. I am certain I am not. As far as I am aware, our only blood connection predates your birth by a few centuries.”

Harry felt Slytherin deploy his power, a thick, dark, heavy and yet seductive pressure. “I don’t think you have arrived here completely by accident. You keep my half-destroyed Locket against your chest, you are a Parselmouth, the most powerful wards in Britain let you go through and you claim you’re not my descendant. Who are you, Master Evans, if that’s even your name?

Harry couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak. The combined weight of Slytherin’s challenging red eyes and his overbearing power kept him locked in place. Finally, he snapped back to reality and started pushing back with his own power. The other wizard let him go with an unpleasant smile. Harry could feel some leftover tingles from what could only be a Legilimency attack.

“Is Occlumency a common art among the wizards of your time?”

“Only for those who have to fend off people like you!” Harry knew it was quite a lame retort. Sadly, it was the best he could muster when he was so unsettled by Slytherin’s behavior. Just as sadly, said Lord was aware of it, judging by his amused smile.

“You know, my faithful familiar is a basilisk ( _I know, oh yes I do_ ), he tends to be quite snappy and defensive too. Like you, except you are more a garden snake than a basilisk, aren’t you, Master Evans, not as much of an acidic tongue.”

At this stage, Harry could only stare at the Slytherin Lord, torn between hitting him and hexing him. Deciding none had great chances of working out, he gathered as much dignity as he could to answer “Both can kill you. Difference is, basilisks aren’t exactly stealthy. Garden snakes bite you when you are no longer expecting it.”

“Ah! And do you plan on biting me, little snake?” Damn him. There wasn’t any way he was going to win this conversation. And with his injuries, he couldn’t even make a hasty retreat.

“Definitely not!” Harry put as much horror as he could gather in his tone. “I would fear the bad taste” he ended with a sweet smile.

The genuine laughter of Lord Slytherin rang in his ears for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's pretty short *hides under rock*. Hopefully, it's no entirely bad?


	5. Living in the present, a flower for remembrance

That little… snake! Harry was seething. After dealing with the press and power hungry politicians for years, he had learnt to ignore unwanted and nasty comments. This wizard seemed to make him lose all his hard-won control with terrifying ease.

Harry strode out of the hallway as purposefully as his injury allowed, which was actually quite pitiful. Soon enough, he found himself in need of a pause. He was hurting and panting and he could feel sweat making his robes adhere to his skin. Leaning on the nearest wall for support, he closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing.

“Hello? Are you all right?” The voice was masculine, young and full of concern.

Harry opened his eyes and forced a smile. “Yes. I am perfectly fine. Thank you for asking though.”

“Are you sure? Because you don’t look fine.”

Harry focused his blurry vision on his interlocutor. Light brown hair and matching eyes. His face retained some of the roundness of boyhood, which meant he couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Well-groomed, he carried himself with a quiet confidence Harry knew came from being born in a pureblood family. He doubted things were much different here.

He sighed. The boy meant well, after all.

“I was injured in a fight. Nothing serious, but I’m still recovering and I’m afraid I just over exerted myself. I will be fine in a few minutes.”

“So, you see, you weren’t fine. Oh, and by the way, I’m Havelock, son of Gaymar, Lord?” Cheeky, with that.

Harry smiled. “My name is Harry, son of James.” That sounded strange on his lips. His father was as always in his heart, but naming their blood relation made it somehow more real.

“So, shouldn’t you be sitting or lying down? And for that matter, why are carrying such a heavy stack of books? Have you never heard of the Levitating Charm?”

“Yes, Havelock, son of Gaymar. I have heard of the Levitating Charm. And wonder of wonder, I can even perform it. But, you see, when you do everything by magic, you lose sight of the meaning and purpose of effort. Besides, too many wizards rely entirely on their magic.”

The teenager scrunched his face up quite inelegantly. “But magic can do everything better.”

“Magic cannot do everything. It cannot make someone fall in love for instance. And for a better example, what will you do the day you suffer from a nasty case of magical exhaustion? Die from exposure because you don’t know how to light a fire by hand? Starve because you are incapable of cooking without using magic? If you are stuck behind magic cancelling wards, are you going to stay until your enemies catch you or are you going to fall after running half the distance you needed to cover to find the weak point that will allow you to pass without using magic?”

Havelock was considering him with respect, now. “You speak from experience, don’t you?” he asked softly.

“I do. And one last warning, Havelock, son of Gaymar. Magic usually creates more problems than it solves.”

With that, Harry straightened, pushed his books back into a semblance of pile, gave a courteous bow and left.

***

Salazar wasn’t sure what to make of the scene he just witnessed. On one hand he could only commend young Master Evans for his healthy view on diversifying a wizard’s skills. He himself adhered to the same principles. On the other hand, he couldn’t help the feeling that there was a bitterness in his voice that spoke of one too many battle. He hadn’t exactly lost faith in magic but his stance on it was that of a wizard a hundred years his senior.

What had happened to Harry Evans?

Such a huge feat of magic as time-travelling must have required truly extraordinary circumstances. And somehow, a future version of his Locket was there, after enduring, it was plain to see, great hardships itself. This Locket was always intended to be a family heirloom. If he wasn’t of his descendance, then how did he come in its possession?

***

Harry didn’t feel any better after his little outburst. As much as he believed what he had said to Havelock, he could have been a bit more tactful. To a young mind, magic was a wondrous thing. He remembered with fondness his first spells, the first times he had managed to accomplish something with the help of magic. He also remembered magic killed just as much as it healed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a lesson he could teach. It had to be learnt through fights and heartbreaks.

Dropping his pile of books in his room, he went for a walk, trying to ascertain just how much Hogwarts Castle was different from the one he knew. One of the first things he noticed was the number of students.

In his time, there were more than a thousand students. It varied and after the war there had been a marked drop in attendance due to the number of dead, but the school had always been buzzing with energy, chatter and mischief. It was rare to walk more than five minute without meeting anyone. After walking through more than half of the castle, Harry came to the conclusion there was something like two hundred students top.

It made sense, in a way. It was a new school, the pool of attendance was much narrower than in his time. Clearly, most of the students he met were pureblood boys and girls, sons and daughters of the wealthy lords of that time. He had spotted others, less well-off, but as a rule, they all came from Great Britain’s most noble society. Maybe there were some muggleborns, though he wouldn't be able to spot them.

Tired, Harry sat down on a ledge, only to spring back to his feet when a young girl tripped, seemingly over air (or a well-placed tripping hex, thought Harry darkly). He gave her a hand. She looked very young, probably a first year, with a round face and clear blue eyes. She took the time to adjust her blond braid before thanking him gravely.

Harry accepted her gratitude with a nod and deemed polite to introduce himself. She looked at him with wide eyes. “So you’re the one the teachers went to find yesterday evening? They said you were a traveler. How did you end up here? Oh, and I am Ermeline Black.”

“Yes. I am. Because there was a storm and I was seeking shelter for the night. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mistress Ermeline.”

She chuckled. “You're a funny one, aren’t you? Were you lost, before I lost my footing most ungracefully?”

“You didn’t lose your footing, young Mistress Ermeline. You were victim of a tripping hex. And no, I wasn’t lost.

_How could he, after walking these halls for years?_

She was looking at him earnestly now. “You look sad. Why?”

“Are all people here so direct? I met one of your schoolmates earlier and he was just as inquisitive.”

“Who was he?”

“A certain Havelock, son of Gaymar, if I recall well.”

“That explains it. No, we aren’t all like this. Havelock and I are a bit of an exception. We were raised together, you know. He is my cousin.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me at all,” he commented wryly. “By the way, you might want to brush up on permanent alarms spells as a way to deal with such problems if they are a regular occurrence.”

“Since I’ve no idea what you’re talking about and you don’t seem to have anything better to do, perhaps you would care for a walk to the Library, to point me in the right direction.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

About forty minutes later, armed with the requisite knowledge, Ermeline was fighting to get the spell right. After watching her struggle for a few minutes, Harry took pity on her and they spent the next hour practicing, adding a few more defensive and offensive spells. He liked her, and clearly the pranks she was victim of didn’t dampen her spirits. Minus the otherworldy feeling, she reminded him a bit of Luna. Suggesting she came to him, should she find herself in such a predicament again, came naturally. From the interested glint in her eyes, he knew he would see her again.

Leaving this aisle, Harry found something that was definitely not there in his time. It was a garden. Hidden from sight, it was nestled against a wall with a reasonably sunny exposition as it was south oriented. After the storm of the previous night, the sky had cleared and it was warm, well, as warm as Scotland could get during early Fall.

He sat on a stone bench in the middle of the vegetation. Oddly enough, he couldn’t identify a lot of plants. Between his friendship with Never-seen-without-a-plant Neville, Auror training and his own interest in herbology, he was quite surprised. Some of them must not have been in use in his time anymore.

He let the gentle breeze and the chirping of the birds lull him. It had been a long time since he had done anything like that. He used to, with Ron and Hermione, before they all became busy with their respective career. They saw each other for lunch, or dinner, sometimes an afternoon with their children, always on the move, always concerned by something or other. Maybe Healer Bryne was right. People enjoyed some time to themselves for a good reason. Unfortunately, there was no way he could share this with the portly Healer, now.

 Had his absence been noticed? Or was the nature of time such that it would never be? Better not to think about it. This was giving him a headache. That kind of things was more Hermione’s alley, though he was perfectly capable of conducing his own research. She was just the one with the most extensive knowledge of time-travel .

He missed them. It occurred to him he had missed them for a long time. Ron’s staunch support, Hermione’s unwavering faith, the three of them were unbeatable. Or at least he liked to think.

***

“It’s time for dinner.”

Harry straightened in panic. Lord Slytherin had managed to sneak up on him. How embarrassing. And dangerous. Especially dangerous, considering the man.

He rifled briefly through answers to finally settle on: “Thank you for informing me.”

“Do you intend to act on this? Because you are so thin you look like a twig. Are there starvation problems in your time or are you just incapable of taking care of yourself?” The words were delivered in a pleasant manner, as if discussing the weather. That man was a walking contradiction.

“There aren’t starvation problems in my part of the world. I am thin because of genetics and a lot of physical exercise. And I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Harry tried to keep a patient tone. Sputtering and losing his metaphorical balance wouldn’t gain him any respect from this wizard.

“Genetics?” It had to be the only thing he heard.

“The personal make-up of a person he or she inherits from his or her parents. For instance, you must have noticed that two persons with dark hair will have a dark-haired child. Those are the reason for familial likeness.”

“Thank you for this explanation.” At least, he could be gracious. “This doesn’t erase the fact that this is dinnertime and you are not heading to the Great Hall. Are you so sure you can take care of yourself? I don’t have time to do that for you.”

“Oh. What are you doing here exactly, then?” This made him tilt his head on his right, as if trying to decipher Harry’s personality.

“Respecting your elders is no longer something that is being taught, I see.”

Harry got up and answered as earnestly as possible “No. We’re taught to respect those who have earned it.”

To his surprise, Slytherin smiled and offered him his arm. “Well, then there is some hope for the future, then. They can’t feed you properly, but at least, they can think.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely happy with this chapter. Ah, well...


	6. Coiled

Harry had never eaten at the teacher’s table. It certainly gave a different perspective, one he wasn’t sure he liked. Of course, that might have been because of the atmosphere around the table. Harry got the impression the teachers were tightly–knit and he was just an intruder, which was technically true. Or maybe it was the whole time-travelling thing.

Whatever the reason, things were awkward. Lady Helga was the only one in the disposition for chatting, or perhaps she was just trying to lift up the mood. As it were, Harry looked forward to the moment he could make his excuse and leave the table without being rude. Feigning illness would only expose him to a bout of Hufflepuff coddling and feigning tiredness would make him look weak. None were in his plans.

“You said to Helga you were a soldier. What were you doing exactly?” Slytherin’s voice held no trace of the genuine smile he had sported earlier.

“Actually, I was in law enforcement. My job was to find and arrest people who went against the law.”

“Is that how you acquired your wounds?”

“Yes. It was a really nasty wizard who sold potions brewed with subpar and out of date ingredients. Resulted in quite a number of severe reactions.”

Harry poked at his meat, faintly sickened by the smell. He had actually no idea what he was eating. Besides, eating with his fingers had never been his thing. Apparently, table manners and silverware had evolved a lot in nearly ten centuries.

“What else is considered against the law?”

_What kind of question was that?_

“Well, stealing and murdering, for example.”

“Stealing is a crime, then.”

“More a misdemeanor, but the idea is the same, yes.” Of course, stealing was against the law. What was he getting at?

“So, how would you go about catching and punishing someone who stole a family heirloom?”

Well. That was solved. He had definitely seen the Locket. Best defense being attack…

“By this not-so-subtle comment, Lord Slytherin, am I meant to understand you believe me guilty of stealing your Locket?”

The man didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. He simply arched an eyebrow and waited for Harry to elaborate while the other teachers were looking at them in turn, as if watching a medieval version of ping-pong. It was clear they wouldn’t intervene.

He sighed. “Look, there isn’t much I can tell you without messing the timeline. Let’s just say I am the rightful owner of the Locket. Shall I swear this on my magic as well?”

“It won’t be necessary. Not now, at least. Unless you not eating is a proof of guilt, Master Evans?”

“I _am_ eating.”

“No you are not. You are poking at your food with your knife and moving it from one side of your slice of bread to the other. I already told you, you are far too thin.”

“Careful, Lord Slytherin. One might think you care.”

If he had thought it was uncomfortable to be held under Slytherin’s gaze before, it was nothing compared to the intensity in his red eyes now. Harry didn’t flinch though. There was nothing there he hadn’t faced previously.

“Careful, Master… Evans.” The name was spoken with utter amusement. “One might think you have things to hide since you so consistently evade questions.”

“Don’t we all have things to hide?”

“Oh yes, we do. However, I usually am not concerned someone’s secrets could be a danger to my school and my family.”

“I swore not to harm anyone. What more could I do?” Harry protested.

“What have you done to my Locket?”

_Pain. Blinding pain. Gryffindor’s sword falling in an almost graceful arc…_

Harry stood up brusquely.

“What happened to the Locket happened after your time and is none of your concern. Lord Slytherin.” He spat the name. Lady Rowena looked faintly horrified and next to her, Lord Gryffindor seemed torn between interest and fear of escalation.

“There are many things you have taken upon yourself to deem unfit of our concern, Master Evans. A habit of yours, perhaps? For someone who is supposed to enforce the law, you seem not to answer well to authority. Wasn’t there anyone to teach you this as a child?” The voice was cutting, now.

Damn him. Just damn him. Hadn’t he hit so close to target, Harry would have admired his perceptiveness. As it was, there was nothing to salvage from that evening.

He bowed hastily in the general direction of his neighbours and whispered an inaudible excuse. He hadn’t even reached the door when he felt a presence at his side. The last person he wanted to see under the circumstances and he wanted to walk him to his rooms. Harry breathed deeply, trying to get his tangled emotions under control. Slytherin was a Legilimens and right now, he was offering him his mind, wide open on a silver tray.

“You have spent dinner insulting me and trying to get a rise out of me. Now you’ve succeded, you’ve come to gloat, savour your victory?” he hissed.

“You misunderstood my motivations, Master Evans. I merely wanted to know the man you are. Now  I do. My apologies if you found the process distasteful.”

“You know nothing about me! And I didn’t find the process distasteful, I found it insulting and injuring. I don’t have a family through the actions of yours. So no, I didn’t have anyone teaching me as a child!”

As soon as the words left his mouth and rang in the open air, Harry knew he had made a grievous mistake. Not only had he bared himself to someone who would use it remorselessly, he had given Slytherin even more reasons to stalk him. Great. The corridor was dark and he could hardly see the details of his interlocutor’s face. He didn’t need to. His whole body crowded Harry, leaving him no exit. Oddly, Slytherin didn’t voice the obvious question. He just studied his face intently. Harry bore the exam with calm. His earlier anger and distress had gone, leaving him tired and strangely clear-minded.

After nearly a whole minute, Slytherin took a step back and nodded. “Good night, Master Evans. We will talk later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing them talking and being all snarky. I hope it shows, even though it's a pretty short chapter!


	7. Running, with dignity, searching, for clarity

They didn’t talk. Not about his rash words after dinner and not about anything he said during. They exchanged pleasantries, were polite to a fault with each other. The unfinished conversation hung over their head, like a delayed punishment for a child. As time passed, one dreaded it more and more and it finally fell when it was no longer expected. Harry put it out of his mind. Short of going directly to the wizard to ask him about it, and he certainly wasn’t going to do that, there was nothing he could do about it.

Days and then weeks went by, without a lick of progress on the Going Back Home area. It seemed time-travel in this time and age was regarded as nothing more than a tale for children. He had more luck with some antique Egyptian and Greek scrolls, once he managed to decipher them. It still didn’t give him enough information to design a spell which could take him back to his time.

Harry was lulled into a form of complacency. Life was easy as long as Slytherin didn’t make it hard on purpose. He had stroke quite the friendship with Godric, occasionally sparring with him when his injury finally healed, listening to his tales of battles and adventures in exotic places. Despite travels being much easier in his time, Harry had never had a lot of time for them and consequently only went out of Great-Britain when his job required it. Apparently, from his stories, Godric had gone to Africa, and Russia. From some comments they dropped when hearing Godric narrating, Harry realised they were all well-traveled, Slytherin even more than his peers.

He made friends with a few other teachers, a middle-aged witch named Ælfrida who taught the art of Healing and a younger wizard, Lambert, whose specialty was written magic. It took Harry some time to understand exactly what it was. Apparently, the curriculum had vastly evolved. It made sense since a lot of spells and potions hadn’t been invented yet (portkeys, for instance) and Harry needed to be careful about what he used or showed in front of someone else.

Through Ermeline and Havelock he met other students and ended up tutoring them. It gave him the impression to be useful and simply, something to do not to get too bored. He considered getting a job, but what could he do? Despite learning everything he could to avoid offending anyone or betraying his future origine, he still was at loss more often than he liked. He could teach since he actually enjoyed it and was good at it (the students kept coming back, so it meant he was doing things well?) but it would mean staying in Hogwarts with Slytherin.

 Harry didn’t know what it was about this man that made him so ill at ease but every time he saw him he lost his composure. This was unbelievable and frankly, ridiculous. He had faced numerous enemies without so much as flinching and just seeing him made him want to run in a not so strategic retreat.

Though this whole situation was an unmitigated disaster, Harry had a lot of fun since he had purposefully not disclosed his own Sorting, watching them all wonder. He knew his behavior came as too contradictory for them to ever deduce correctly.

In truth, more than five years after finishing school, he saw the whole thing with a lot of distance. It didn’t matter to him anymore. The Gryffindor Sorting he had been so proud before was just that: a place where he had met people he loved and fought for. It had no bearing over his real personality or the way he led his life. He now agreed with Dumbledore when he had said it was choices that defined people. Which in turn forced him to consider his recent and current choices. What did he want in a life so far from his original one? Did he want to find a profession where he could somehow benefit this world without introducing change ahead of time? Did he want a family? This one took him by surprise. He had never given it much thought. There were always too many expectations, too little time. He couldn’t see himself as a husband, and though he desired children, he had little confidence in his ability to care for them.

He didn’t have a definite answer to all this, but then again, he had nothing but time at his disposal. Introspection wasn’t his preferred method of dealing with problems as he knew all too well his own tendencies to drown in them when doing that instead of rushing along head first.

His first order of priority should be finding a job. Once again, he was competent, he enjoyed teaching, was generally respected by the students and well-liked by the other teachers. His only reluctance stemmed from Slytherin’s proximity. Harry had had difficult colleagues in the past. He usually dealt with the problem by keeping things as professional as possible. Here, it was a lot more complicated. His power impregnated the whole castle, surrounded Harry when they met, like a heavy and overbearing blanket. He couldn’t say it was unpleasant. He didn’t know how it made him feel. His behavior was just as strange. He treated Harry with courtesy but never missed an occasion to put him deliberately ill-at-ease. He was challenging but never responded to any of the challenges Harry offered in return.

As long as Harry stayed, he would never be able to consider the situation with clarity. He could go as a traveling wizard, offering his services for complicated spellwork and warding. He had noticed this ability was woefully underdeveloped around here. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded the best thing to do. He would pack what little he had and then make his goodbyes at dinner. There was no need to delay.

He went on with his plans, warning the children he would go away for a while. He expected some sadness and was quite surprised to find none. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think they would perish of longing in his absence but an “I’ll miss you” would nonetheless have been appreciated. They offered a smile instead and some a few words of encouragement. Why he needed encouragement, he didn’t know and when he asked Ermeline, she just hugged him with the lack of reserve she was known for and disappeared.

***

Dinner started as usual. In the past week, Harry had managed to get the hang of eating with just a knife, a spoon and his fingers. Getting used to the food took longer but, at least, he was no longer nauseous when he ate. Not desirous to create an uproar at the teachers’table, Harry waited the end of the meal to make his announcement to his hosts. Lady Helga pulled her saddest eyes and patted his shoulders, telling him he was welcome back anytime. Lady Rowena just watched him and said if he felt it was for the best, then it was the right decision. Godric caught him in a rib-crushing embrace and added his hopes his sparring partner would return very soon. Slytherin said nothing, merely watching him with his red eyes.

As Harry made his way toward the door, he felt a familiar presence at his side, in an eerie parody of his first evening.

He kept walking, Slytherin at his side, so quiet that, if he couldn’t feel his power swirling, he wouldn’t even know he was there. He made no attempt to touch him either. When Harry reached his door, he turned around, a few words of thanks on his lips. They died when Slytherin opened the door and let himself in. Harry stayed on the threshold, too stunned to say anything. It wasn’t in the habit of the older wizard to do anything that wasn’t in strict adherence to his sense of courtesy. Slytherin merely raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to come in.

“Are you so afraid of me that you won’t even find yourself alone in the same room with me?”

“I’m not… afraid of you,” Harry said carefully. “I’m just unsure of your intentions”.

“My apologies. It’s not fright, is it? You truly don’t know how to behave toward me. I am a puzzle to you.”

Harry figured it would be best to keep his answer short. “Yes.”

“How interesting, Master Evans, since you are the puzzle here. It is not everyday someone manages to elude my understanding for so long. May I?” Slytherin was indicating one of the chairs.

Harry made a vague gesture of approval and settled on the other chair.

“Let’s examine the facts, will you? First, you are a time-traveller. Second, you share my gift, wear my Locket and yet you claim you are not my descendant. Third, you accuse my family to be the origin of some troubles at the center of which you clearly found yourself. Fourth, and probably not completely unrelated to the third, you avoid me, actively. I make no claim to be a likable person and I am certainly not as easy-going as Godric or Helga. But I haven’t done anything to cause such a reaction.”

“You forget the…”

“The first dinner. No, I don’t forget it. But it’s not the root of your reluctance, is it? You understood I was protecting the Castle. No. Since then, I have been nothing but courteous to you and yet you persist in shunning me. I can’t help but feeling you’re leaving the castle to be away from my presence. I have watched you extensively with the students. It’s not in your character to run from troubles. Yet you are running away from me. While I would be honored to elicit such a reaction from anyone else, I wonder as to your reasons.”

Harry stayed silent. He had actually no idea what he could answer.

Lord Slytherin joined his hand under his chin, as if in deep reflexion. “I have noticed another troubling thing. You avoid me at all time, but you also avoid Helga when she wants to help you with something. Now, _that_ is shocking. In almost twenty years I have known her, I have never seen anyone refusing her help. You also skip meals and go outside without appropriate outerwear.”

That was getting ridiculous. He didn’t skip meals. He was busy at the same time or just forgot. It happened. Same for his cloak. And he never refused Helga’s help. He couldn’t recall a single occurrence where the witch had offered him anything else than food.

Slytherin’s expression turned from faintly interested to something dangerously akin to pity.

“You have no idea what I am talking about, haven’t you?”

Harry shook his head.

“It’s beyond sad, Harry.” It was the first time he used his birth name and Harry barely noticed it. “I can only guess at what happened to you in the future but I can’t imagine how hard it must have been that you wouldn’t even recognize small kindnesses when they are offered.”

Slytherin leaned forward, his right hand trailing lightly on Harry’s cheek. His eyes were now burning with intensity, and something else Harry couldn’t identify. It was neither lust nor want. It was softer and deeper at the same time. Incapable of sitting still, not knowing what to do with himself, he jumped to his feet. Slytherin stood up, more calmly.

“You have a right to happiness, Harry. It is your decision to leave or stay. But, whatever you do, don’t do it to run away from what feels good to you.”

Slytherin took a step forward and reached invitingly. Harry didn’t flinch back and accepted the warm and comforting hands on his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Salazar Slytherin, counselor extraordinaire! Sorry if it's a bit (a lot) cliché. If it's any consolation, this chapter is a bit longer than my usual.


	8. Showing your heart, courting your mind

Harry stayed. Salazar was right. He was running for all the wrong reasons. He still didn’t exclude leaving Hogwarts for a while to take some distance but he reported his departure for a few weeks. Salazar’s words ran in his mind, chasing their own tail. He couldn’t forget them, nor the man, for that matter. Harry finally understood why his proximity put him so ill at ease. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t even attraction. It was potentialities, the need to make a choice. He wasn’t sure what the options were, though.

No one had been surprised by his decision to stay. They had just smiled and told him he was welcome as long as he wanted to stay. The students had been a bit more vocal and he caught on the meaning of their attitude embarrassingly late. They had apparently all known Professor Slytherin had a thing for Harry and had been trying to court him.

Harry couldn’t be oblivious to it anymore. Salazar _wa_ s courting him. It started small, so as to not scare him away, he thought wryly. He felt treated a bit like a shaking bunny one had to reassure and coddle at length before it learned to feel safe. As humiliating as it was, it was entirely his fault. Salazar reacted to the signals Harry had sent. He needed to correct that very soon. Harry was no medieval maiden waiting for her prince charming. He was a 25 year old Auror, he had fought quantities of battles, it was high time his behavior reflected that.

Keeping all this in mind, it wasn’t unpleasant to be treated with so much care, if a tad confusing. He did have a tendency to forget his cloak, but he was perfectly capable of summoning it or casting a warming charm. Salazar didn’t need to arrive with one every single time it happened (was he stalking him by the way?). To his credit, he never took advantage of it, respecting Harry’s boundaries as no one had before. His tongue was as sharp as ever though and he never lost an occasion to challenge Harry on magic or fighting skills.

The Slytherin Lord seemed to have a high opinion of Harry’s competences in these areas. They often duelled or discussed some fine point of magic theory late into the night. They had started meeting after dinner in a small and nice room, with only the fireplace and maybe a candle or two for light. It wasn’t romantic or anything of the sort. Rather, it was comfortable. Not at first, of course, but they grew relaxed in each other’s company, often lapsing in silence and watching the flames dancing together.

It was far from a traditional courtship. They were both grown men, after all. They had hardly a need for a chaperone or elaborated rituals. They certainly didn’t have to abide by the numerous conventions that seemed to litter this time. Harry had received more well-intentioned advice from his students than he would ever need. Ermeline in particular had insisted on a no touching rule, which was absolutely stupid, in Harry’s mind. Salazar often ran a knuckle on his face, took his arm or even put his hand on the small of his back. He always did so exceedingly slowly, giving Harry ample time to refuse or shirk away from the touch.

Harry had never realized how much one could long for such simple touches. He had little opportunities for contact outside of combat and living alone, except for the occasional visit from Teddy, didn’t allow for all the casual touches everyone apparently enjoyed. He could see why people did, now.

Salazar always made sure he never missed a meal. For someone who claimed he didn’t have the time for it, he was suspiciously efficient at ensuring it. When he couldn’t do it himself, some student or other would cheerfully lead Harry toward the Great Hall at meal hour under the pretense of a conversation too interesting to interrupt or something equally ridiculous. Harry didn’t know if they were doing it of their own initiative or if Salazar had put them up to it. Both possibilities were frightening by the sheer scale of their application. It was nice to know people cared, really it was. They were just a bit too systematic for his taste.

***

“Harry!” He turned around to face Salazar. “I would ask you what you are doing here but now that I see you, it’s obvious enough. Come.”

Harry just stayed huddled on his window ledge. It was cold and damp but he couldn’t muster the energy required for a warming charm, let alone moving.

He heard Salazar sigh and felt the weight of a heavy and unfamiliar cloak on him. He moved his hand minutely to keep it secured, never raising his eyes.

 ***

The young wizard was clearly not truly awoken from some dreadful nightmare. He had noticed it was a regular occurrence but it was the first time he had happened on such a scene in the middle of the night. Harry had definitely not the slightest bit of a sense of self-preservation. What was more worrisome was that he couldn’t seem to rouse him from whatever hell he was reliving.

He tried giving him his hand in hope Harry would take it and stand up on his own. When this failed, he grabbed him by his waist and propelled him toward the room they used for their nightly discussion. This didn’t elicit any kind of response from Harry. He let Salazar manhandle him as he pleased, sitting him in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, the older wizard’s heavy dark green cloak doubling as a blanket. Salazar rubbed his hands between his to evaluate their coldness. Satisfied to have found them merely cold and not icy, he stood up and opened the pouch he always wore at his belt. The potion he gave Harry was one of his own design. It was amber and fresh smelling. It wasn’t meant for drinking though. Akin to the smelling salts used by the Romans, it startled the person wide awake, without the atrocious ammoniac stench burning through their lungs. True to its purpose, it made Harry widen his eyes and straighten in his chair, obviously more alert.

“Would you care to tell me what you were doing outside your room in the middle of a very cold night?”

Harry wished he could tell him to go the hell away. He had, after all, no authority over him. That being said, the man had found him and taken care of him. Besides, he didn’t have the strength to fight tonight.

“I had a nightmare. Not an uncommon occurrence and nothing to fret about, I assure you.”

“You have nightmares that put you in such a state on a regular basis and you dare tell me it is no reason for concern? It completely warrants concern, Harry.”

Harry just stayed silent. Salazar could very easily deduce what he was thinking: he was exaggerating. Those were just nightmares. Everyone got them from time to time. Typical.

“What was it about?” In front of the younger man’s continued stubbornness, he insisted. This was too important. A wizard who couldn’t rest properly and was perpetually troubled was a wizard who was bound to lose control over his magic very soon. “Harry, I just want to help you. I thought it would be clear by now.”

“I know,” he whispered. Well, that was progress, wasn’t it? He waited for more.

“When I was younger, there was this dark wizard who attempted to take over our world. For certain reasons, people thought I was the only one who could stop him. So I did.  It’s just some bad memories and dreams of what would have happened had I failed.”

That was… interesting. As was, it seemed, everything that surrounded the young wizard. He had previously implied his family was to be blamed for a number of things that went wrong in his life. Could it be… No, it wouldn’t do to theorize without more information and now wasn’t an appropriate time to ask for more. He contented himself with settling with Harry in the large chair, drawing him in his arms, providing him with a warm and dependable presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfew! For some reason, I couldn't format this properly. I sure love doing HTML coding by hand.  
> Since the concern has been raised, Harry _will ___take some time away. Just, well, he is very tired. Let him have some rest before he heads to the wilderness?  
>  On other news, I'm entirely rewriting the ending to that story. It was supposed to be pretty sad (not tragic, though, I'm not about to kill my beloved characters) and I think it's not sadness I want to share. However, I'm open to suggestions... If you prefer a sad ending, you only have to let me know!  
> Hope you enjoyed it, even if it was criminally short :(


	9. Walking throug life, with perspective

It was raining the next morning. Harry could hear the regular beat of raindrops against the windows. He could only hope it would clear later in the day because staying inside would seriously increase his chances to meet Salazar, which would be quite… awkward. He had woken up comfortable and well-rested, until he had remembered what had transpired. He knew, without a doubt, Salazar wouldn’t leave it at the lame explanation he had given. He was grateful to the wizard for not prying immediately, though. It would have been so easy to force the whole story out of him in such a vulnerable state. It had been, well, not nice exactly, more… he didn’t know how to call that. He had felt safe and, dare he say, happy despite the reasons why this had started.

Happiness. Not something he was used to feeling. He recalled it from younger years, fleeting moments full of laughter and bright smiles, understanding and belonging. A feeling of utmost _rightness_. The certitude to have someone at his side, no matter what happened. Sad as it was, loneliness had become a part of his life, so insidiously he hadn’t even realized. Seeing a potential ending to that loneliness was in equal parts a beautiful and terrifying prospect. He wasn’t sure he knew how to fully integrate people in his life anymore, how to withstand the perspective of being hurt simply because you cared, the risk to take someone with you should the worst happen. Harry didn’t want to be responsible for any more lives.

Waking up on a ridiculously comfortable couch, snuggling in the warmth of the numerous blankets thrown over him didn’t make for punctuality at the breakfast table. Harry didn’t hope to find anything edible at this hour. Well, he would just go without. Wasn’t like he hadn’t done so many times before. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, trying to shake the sleep from his brain. A house elf popped in suddenly, making him jump. She was carrying a tray of bread, fish and wine. Harry made a slight face at the smell. He couldn’t get used to breakfast food. He missed tea more than he could have ever thought possible, yearned after decent marmalade since apparently no one had heard of oranges, and never wanted to see another almond. Seriously, these people put almond everywhere. He sighed. There was nothing else to eat, he needed the food and wasn’t about to waste any, no matter how poorly appetizing he found this one.

After wolfing down his breakfast and applying a cleaning charm to his teeth (because, honestly, chewing mint didn’t feel at all like brushing his teeth properly), he tidied the place quickly and went out. To his everlasting relief, he didn’t meet Salazar. Treading very carefully around the corners, he decided to take a walk toward the Library when he felt Ermeline at his back. The young woman’s presence was easy to notice. She was louder than most people and didn’t appear to care for hiding. He turned around and smiled, amused by the potion’s stains on her robe. It seemed a cauldron had exploded at her face and the concoction had been so staining she had been unable to remove it. She even had a bit of green in her hair, where a few locks had escaped her veil.

She sent him back a blinding smile, not bothered in the least by the sorry state of her clothing.

“You seemed well-rested this fine morning, Master Evans.”

“And you seem in need of a change of clothes, Mistress Ermeline. What is it that left such stains?”

She tilted her head with a thoughtful expression.

“You know, I have absolutely no idea. But it was fun to brew and it had a wonderful texture.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at her view of the situation.

“Professor Slytherin didn’t get mad at you? He usually doesn’t like it when someone makes a cauldron blow up, much like my old teacher, actually.”

She looked at him seriously.

“He didn’t say anything.”

“He didn’t? That’s odd.”

“Yes, it is. Actually, he seemed in a very good mood today. And so do you. Is that a coincidence?”

“What? Of course, it’s a coincidence. And you’re too young to make such assumptions, Mistress Ermeline.” How could she jump to that conclusion?

She took a step back, her usual careless smile back on her lips. Harry was beginning to suspect it was her equivalent of a poker face.

“I have been betrothed for years, Master Evans. I will be married in a few months. Why would you think I’m too young?”

There was hurt and genuine incomprehension in her eyes. How could he explain his position without mentioning his coming from the future? How could he tell her he was sorry to hear she was about to relinquish her joy to learn and the gleam in her eyes whenever she mastered a new skill in favor of looking pretty at a husband’s arm, leading a household and raising children? It wasn’t that he thought she would be incapable of it. He just believed she wasn’t suited to it. She wasn’t made for the discreet and subtle influence Harry had seen numerous pureblood women using on their spouse to stir them toward the appropriate business or political decision. She was made for honesty and impulsivity.  Forcing her to care about appearances would stifle her until she could no longer breathe.

She probably saw all this on his face.

“He is a good man, Master Evans. I can’t say we love each other, but we care for one another and he doesn’t want me to stop studying and learning magic. He says he cares too much for me to control my every step.” She tucked a green lock neatly behind her veil. “We all have to make sacrifices in this, compromises in order to make things work and not hurt any of us. I don’t expect passion as we hear it in the romances. I expect companionship and support and he has promised that to me as I have pledged the same to him.”

There was nothing to add to this, wasn’t it? Maybe he should follow the same lines. Maybe he should stop trying to control everything as he would only end up hurting everyone. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Salazar.

***

He was still mulling over her words a few hours later in the gardens, when the rain had stopped, leaving a cold blue sky behind. How much of it could be applied to his own situation? He didn’t have the same obligations as a high-born woman such as Ermeline. Still, she spoke of companionship and support. He could live with that. There was no question he was attracted to Salazar. The man was fascinating in his mind as well as in his body. When he wasn’t actively trying to make his life hell, he was a pleasant companion, one Harry enjoyed very much and had affinity with. The time spent in his company was always more interesting and better remembered, treasured memories he wanted more of.

Harry shivered. The wind was growing colder by the minute. Sitting still on that stone bench was great for thinking and disastrous for comfort. Yet it didn’t deter some people as Ælfrida joined him, sitting down with her usual grace. She wasn’t a beautiful woman, not even pretty, but there was such serenity in her every move, such peace in her eyes that one was drawn to her regardless, a fact that was helped by her being friendly, outgoing and the most informal person Harry had met since he arrived in this time.

“You seem deep in thought, my friend.”

“I’m unsure of what I should do.” Thank Merlin, she understood quickly, without having him spelling it out.

“About Salazar courting you.” It wasn’t a question. “Let me be as direct as possible: what do you want from life in general and from him specifically?”

“That’s precisely what I was trying to determine. I can’t say it was going swimmingly.”

“No one else can do it for you.” Her voice was gentle but very certain. Harry looked at her, wondering if she had, despite her relative youth, an extensive experience in these matters.

“I can, however, listen to you, if you wanted to figure out things aloud. Sometimes, it helps.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin!” Harry raised his hands in mock despair, smiling in spite of his gloomy mood. Ælfrida had this influence on people.

“I won’t insult you by suggesting you start at the beginning, but, well, maybe you should. If you can say when it started, that is.”

“You know, that’s actually a good question.” He inspired. “I think I might be in love with him. Thing is, I won’t spend my whole life here. I probably will go home one day and where will that leave us?”

“I see two problems with what you just said. Firstly, you assume you will go ‘home’. I take it that means it’s very far from here? But, if you could go home, wouldn’t you have done so already? What prevents you from making here your home? Secondly, you claim you’re not sure about being in love with Salazar and yet you grieve about hypothetically leaving him and shied away from hurting him. Harry, you are in love with him. What you need to figure out is if you really want to do something about it.”

“That’s strange advice. I mean, anyone would say that, on that basis, it’s time to make a move.”

“Harry, you’re not anyone. I don’t know what brought you here, but it’s very clear to me that there are some terrible things in your past. I cannot give you, in good conscience, the advice to go forward without knowing more of the situation. That being said, Salazar seems to be the only one capable to reach out to you and make you truly smile. Maybe it’s not love, maybe it’s not enough, but I think it’s a good start.”

A good start. Instead of expecting too much, either of Salazar or of himself, he should focus on the present, enjoy it and hopefully, build on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the minus side, no Salazar/Harry interaction. On the plus side, longer chapter than usual...  
> A side note about the historical aspects of it : oranges, or technically bitter oranges (the kind you'd use for marmalade today), were known in Britain around this time. However, they would have been an awfully expensive delicacy, imported from China as they were. Not something you'd find in a school, at any rate. And on the matter of marmalade, it did exist, but not under a form Harry would have recognised. Or liked, for that matter.


	10. Fighting, Saving, Healing

After a whole week of rain, the weather was exceptionally bright. In Harry’s opinion, the sun and blue sky more than made up for the freezing temperatures and the still muddy paths. It was nice to have some light again. He went for a walk, hoping to soak in the sun, even under the cloak Salazar had insisted he took. He was actually glad for it, since it warded off most of the chill. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand how everything seemed colder since he had arrived. He didn’t have any instrument to accurately measure the temperature and didn’t know any charm that could give the same result but he could swear it was several degrees below what he would expect at the same season around Hogwarts.

Making his way toward the gardens, he met several people, intent on enjoying the weather while it lasted. In the past weeks, he had learnt many names and wasn’t the best at remembering them all. No one seemed to care, though. He was something of an object of fascination, since very few people knew why a guest was staying in Hogwarts for so long. Besides, Harry reflected, they wanted to know what he had that was so special it caught Professor Slytherin’s attention. Most seemed more interested than vindictive, which, in itself, said a lot about the state of said Slytherin’s daily life.

As the minutes passed and the sun rose higher in the sky, the gardens filled with students -and some professors _–_ wanting to make the most out of the weather and maybe gather some herbs. It was one of the things Harry found to be the most different. In his time, no one would have dared touching Professor Sprout’s precious plants outside lessons. Here, save for some truly rare plants, everyone was allowed to help themselves to the garden’s products, provided they did some work in exchange, usually a spot of weeding or fertilizing. Feeling a bit ashamed at his lack of productivity, the young wizard set out to do the same. After all, he did enjoy garden work and was suitably proficient at it, if he could say so himself.

It was absolutely amazing how many weeds could grow when there wasn’t a ray of sun to help them out. Magic could work wonders but sometimes, it was completely useless. At least, there wasn’t any magical weed. Harry was suddenly stopped in his musings by a scream. His Auror training overrode instincts and he stayed low in the mud, assessing the situation. He could feel about twenty attackers spread around the gardens. He hadn’t even heard them arriving. Damn the fact anti-apparition wards hadn’t been invented yet! Harry tried to locate a leader, unsuccessfully. Well, so much for talking things out. They didn’t seem much interested in talking anyway. Harry wasn’t exactly surrounded but if he stayed where he was, this would happen, very fast. He disapparated as discreetly as he could to get behind their back and see how many people were stuck.

It wasn’t good. Scratch that. It was bad. Harry had had worst odds, sure, but that didn’t make things any easier every time something like that happened. Around fifteen students were trying to hold their ground, bravely and quite foolishly, since they didn’t have the experience the attacking wizards seemed to have. Or the capacity and will to cause damage to fellow human beings. Harry, on the  other hand, had no such qualms and disposed of the two wizards closer to him with stunners. Just as he expected, it attracted the attention of several of their companions, with the immediate effect of shifting their attack on him.

People were so predictable sometimes. Not that Harry complained, but after the twentieth or so battle, it started to get slightly boring and depressing. He didn’t particularly want to hurt anyone and, though he enjoyed fighting, he usually preferred to know why he was fighting. He had no idea why these men had attacked, nor who they were and why on Earth would anyone attack a school, save for crazy Dark Lords, of course?

There were students here, children, for Merlin’s sake! He was so tired of people who thought preying on the weak was a proper way of getting anything. He couldn’t say he believed in karma but he did believe in retribution and three or so years of war had dulled his capacity to feel any sympathy to anyone who attacked his loved ones. He was vaguely aware of how selfish it all sounded and didn’t care one bit. He had seen too many children dead because of adults’ folly. If he closed his eyes, he could see each and every one of them. Those he knew personally, those he knew only from sight, those he saw in the newspapers. When would this all end?

He grabbed a student by the wrist, a first year boy by the look of it, and shoved him out of the aiming range of a wizard who seemed to enjoy putting fire to everything he could. Harry reflected the spell at him, forcing the man to drench himself in water to avoid being burnt alive. The few necessary  seconds to accomplish this left Harry with enough time to take him down. While they were more or less otherwise occupied, Harry took the opportunity to make the students scatter in all directions as fast as possible. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be any injury worse than a scratch. He could see a few of them fallen in the grass but they were breathing and in no obvious pain. As things were, he couldn’t do anything for them except get the hostile wizards out of the place so they couldn’t be trapped in crossfire.

If he ever got back, he would have to thank Neville quite thoroughly, he thought, concentrating a volley of curses and hexes on the attackers, pushing them to a retreat toward a patch of plants he knew really didn’t enjoy being disturbed and had a habit of letting it known painfully. Besides, there were some very useful charms that could use plants to incapacitate people. Neville was right. Plants were awesome.

Just as he bent to avoid a curse, he felt the arrival or several professors. Taking care of the remaining wizards took very little time. Harry knelt to check on one of them who had bashed his head against a rock falling prey to a petrifying spell, still wondering what could have prompted a disorganized band of wizards to attack. He still had his hands on the man’s head when he lost consciousness.

***

He woke up in the Healing Wing. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know that. How familiar with a place did someone have to be to recognize it without seeing it? Maybe it was the smell, Harry thought sluggishly. Or maybe the hushed tones everyone thought they had to adopt in there. He opened blurry eyes to a sea of black. He blinked several times, trying to make out some lines. He felt a cool hand brush his hair from his forehead.

A sea of black and cool hands. Could only be Salazar. Seriously the man should wear something else than black and green sometimes. Or not. He pulled these colours very well.

A goblet of wine was brought to his lips and he drank it, repressing a wince at the taste. He really would have preferred water. Fresh, pure water.

“When I said you seemed to be in the way of a lot of problems, I didn’t say this to bring you bad luck, you realize?”

What was he talking about? Oh…

“Not your fault. Happens all the time. Children?” He felt so very tired he didn’t even have the energy to raise his eyes and meet Salazar’s properly.

“They are all safe and uninjured.” If Harry hadn’t been so damn exhausted, he would have, not for the first time, wondered how Salazar had ended up with a reputation of general coldness and lack of care for his students. He might be a little impatient sometimes, but he truly loved them. Probably wouldn’t have co-founded a school if he didn’t.

“Good. You?”

“Fine as well. You should be more concerned about yourself, Harry.”

“Got hurt. Happens. Not a big deal. Had worse.”

He could see Slytherin more clearly now. The older wizard sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Harry, since no one seemed to have explained this to you, I will do it. And I will do it again when you will feel better because I sincerely doubt you are up to listening and understanding a long speech today. Just because you got hurt in the past and have endured worse injuries doesn’t mean this one doesn’t hurt. And it certainly doesn’t mean I, or anyone else for that matter, shouldn’t worry about you.”

Harry just stared at him with huge unfocused green eyes.

Salazar sighed again.

“Sleep, now.”

He was already turning toward the door when he heard a faint “Stay, please”.

The young wizard was very pale against the sheets. The Slytherin Lord walked back, sat again on the bed and started stroking his hair. Harry turned in his general direction, rubbed slightly his face against Salazar’s wrist and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought reading _A history of climate_ would ever be of any use (outside class, of course, but that has been thankfully over for several years now). Guess who was wrong?  
>  Sorry about the short (and not very good) chapter. I hope I'll be able to do better next time, but there is some RL stuff going on and it might mess up a bit with my update schedule (hopefully not but I prefer to warn you guys)


	11. Alone in the wild

Harry didn’t know exactly what curse hit him. He did know, though, that it made him incredibly tired for days. This was perfect ground for Salazar to fuss over him. Though perhaps an exaggeration, the term wasn’t wildly inappropriate for the situation. More attentive than the situation warranted certainly wasn’t enough. Maybe Harry was a bit cold, but he was more than capable of performing a warming charm. There was no need for an additional blanket, let alone two.

It took quite some time to get an explanation about the attack. When Harry finally heard it, he couldn’t help but feel distanced from this world. He had made great progress in mastering the skills necessary to survive there without getting discovered but there were so many things he didn’t, couldn’t understand. Apparently, there was a clanic organization of the Scottish wizarding world, much as in the muggle world, and they didn’t appreciate such a powerful establishment on their territory.

“You didn’t negociate with them first to settle on this land?”

Rowena had smiled joylessly and answered, hands placed precisely in her lap as if to refrain from hurting someone, “Yes, we did. Rather, we did, with the previous owner of this ground. They were Pictish. Three years ago, they lost a series of skirmishes and, with the passing of all the heirs, everything went to the victors, who are Gaelic, and not too fond of our presence, to say the least. While this place is legally ours, they don’t see it that way and periodically seek to get it back. It’s a very powerful magical place.”

“Why didn’t the wards prevent intrusions?”

“We couldn’t make them too restrictive. Too many students find their way to the school guided by their magic rather than by the knowledge of its emplacement. The wards are tied to need, as you well know since that’s how you managed to get past them.”

Well, that explained a lot of things.

***

Since he had woken up in the Healing Wing with Salazar’s hand in his hair, he had had to face the truth. He could turn around and avoid it, but what good would it do? He was attracted to Salazar. It had started quite innocently, with a marked appreciation for the wizard’s mind. If Harry had thought to label it at that time, he would have called this friendship. It would seem friendship had evolved while he wasn’t looking into something more intimate.

It felt… good. And frighteningly intimate. Harry wasn’t delusional. He knew Salazar was right when he said that he couldn’t accept what felt good. He even knew it was partially because of a misplaced sense of guilt, partially because he never got that before and didn’t know how to react or what to do with it. But knowing it didn’t solve the problem magically.

It also felt chillingly too much, like a vicious claw griping his heart until he could no longer breathe. Not stifling per se, but definitely too much, too soon. The battle, as short and non lethal as it had been had left Harry deeply unsettled. He supposed the memory of the Battle of Hogwarts was still too fresh, bleeding in this reality.

He inhaled, trying to reach past the clog in his throat. It was of little use and only managed to spread the frost in his chest. He tucked the cloak closer and reclined against the wall. He should be walking around. He was still so tired, though. He closed his eyes and started tentatively the breathing exercises Hermione had taught him a few years ago, when just facing the world had become too much.

When his life had been a barely functional chaos.

It has taken him years but he had managed to get things under control, slowly, ever so slowly until one day he had found himself in the middle of the Wizengamot, about to express his opinion about the latest commercial registration law and had realized he had finally found equilibrium.

A few weeks ago he had sought to leave, to run away. Now he once again considered this option as a mean to take some time to think about his perspectives of future.

He had to stop believing he would ever come home. Home was a faraway dream. It might even no longer exist, depending on how much he had already managed to mess with the timeline.

_“Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Harry!”_

A mirthless smile tugged at his lips. Yes. Awful things. It was up to him to deal with them, though.

Another day of fighting. Would it ever stop?

He needed to be away from outside influence. Alone. Time to think. It sounded wondrous, actually. Away from people who took all the air in the room. Away from people who just couldn’t stop challenging him because of his very existence. A vacation in the country was certainly for the best. He was healing faster now the curse was outside his system, he feared neither cold nor loneliness and, as an ex-Auror, he knew he would be quite safe.

Last time, he had let people persuade him to stay. His resolve was clearer now and it was with a calm he hadn’t felt in years that Harry informed his friends a few hours later he was going to leave for some time. To his surprise, no one raised an objection. Even Salazar looked at him with understanding.

Harry left on the next morning accompanied by low clouds and desultory rain, backpack willingly heavy on his shoulders and head several times lighter than the day before.

***

 He walked for several hours. It helped him clear his mind, much as flying used to do. Flying here was pretty much out of question. The brooms in use were worse than laughable. Being up in the air felt good, but without a minimum of speed and maneuverability, it just wasn’t the same. Harry hadn’t found any thestral so far and so couldn’t rely on that particular method. When he would come back, he would search for them more seriously. He couldn’t believe there wasn’t a single thestral in the whole Forbidden Forest. The gentle creatures appealed to him and,  as ethereal as they looked, had a way of grounding him in the present almost nothing and no one else had ever managed.

It felt strange to be here in the wild in medieval times. In Hogwarts, it didn’t matter so much because the place was so familiar. There, everything reminded him he was in different time. The traces of muggle civilization he had known his whole life were conspicuously absent. No candy bar wrap or empty plastic bottle anywhere, no smell of cars, instead bits of ropes, the occasional thread of leather, even a horse shoe once and trees. A lot of trees. Besides, the inhabited places seemed to be few and far between.

Harry avoided them. He didn’t trust himself not to betray his origins by a misplaced word or ignorance of something that was common knowledge. He didn’t want to talk, anyway.

Setting up the tent was a reminder of both happy and painful days. There was the day of the Quidditch Cup when they were all together, laughing at silly things and generally enjoying life. The calm before the storm, he knew now. There were the days of running, desperately searching for any lead on the Horcruxes, hiding from the Snatchers. The memories were no longer so raw and Harry flicked his wand with a smile, locking all the knots in place.

He slipped inside, marveling as he always did at the disparity between the exterior and interior size. Habit didn’t make it any less wonderful. He cooked himself a quick meal with the food that had been packed for him. If he stayed for a long time, he would have to consider hunting and gathering, but it was far from his preferred option. The survival courses during Auror Training and his own stint in the wild when he was seventeen had taken care of his ability to catch and skin bunnies. He just didn’t like killing, be it human or anything else. Except maybe spiders. He wasn’t arachnophobic like Ron but his meeting with Aragog hadn’t left him particularly well-disposed toward arachnids, big or small.

Eating on his own felt weird after weeks of company at the table. The quiet was both soothing and vaguely unnerving. He finished his bowl quickly and washed in the nearby stream. Cleaning charms just didn’t achieve the same level of cleanliness in his mind. Or maybe it was his muggle education talking. A tingle in the wards he had erected around his camp alerted him to the presence of something bigger than a mouse. A doe had made her way inside his safety perimeter. For a long instant, she watched him, assessing how dangerous he was. She was maybe seven feet away and he could see her liquid brown eyes, vulnerable yet determined. She reminded of another doe, a silvery one, incarnation of his mother’s love. He expected the doe to flee as any sane wild animal would do. She just sauntered away as the other one would do, several centuries in the future.

He was certain his parents hadn’t intended something like that. But they had made abundantly clear they would love him no matter his choices.

Choices. It all came down to that, didn’t it? The decisions were his to make. His responsabilities to agree to. His consequences to accept.

He pondered his choices walking under the rain. He pondered his choices following streamlets cascading through the moors. He stopped thinking about them as he raised his eyes to the stormy sky tracking the call of an osprey.

He smiled at the mountain hare running away, showing him only his powerful hindquarter and elongated ears. He spied a marten, swift shadow against pine trunk. Days after days though, animals became scarcer, burrowing underground, and vegetation started to disappear under snow.

He sought shelter from storms in rock formations and in abandoned shacks. Every morning he woke up to more snow, white and blinding when the sun made an appearance, rare as it was in the quickly diminishing daylight.

Then came the day when the night didn’t leave and the sun didn’t rise, and the storm didn’t cease.

When Harry couldn’t walk anymore.

When he had to start thinking again.

To his surprise, it didn’t hurt nearly as much, it didn’t choke him anymore and if there were some dread pooling at the bottom of his stomach, he could now recognise for the anticipation it was and not the crippling fear he had once experienced and let rule his life.

It was not ideal, he doubted ideal even existed when applied to him, but it was a step forward. Considering the future wasn’t any longer the daunting task it had been a mere few weeks ago, mostly because he now realised he had one.

The feeling was both exhilarating and fortifying.

And if he had a future, it meant he could share it with someone. A presence at his side, loudly mocking and quietly supportive, challenging and exigent, anchoring and soothing. It meant he could be the presence at someone’s side, the sarcasm and the kindness, the voice of reason and the reason to be happy.

He still didn’t have a home but there was nothing preventing him from building one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barely functional chaos is a pretty good description of my life, right now. I know I said there was likely going to be some schedule rearranging, but this went wildly out of hands. I'm so sorry... and I'm afraid it's only going to get worse until the end of October. Don't hit me too hard?  
> Oh, and Salazar is back in next chapter, don't worry. I just felt Harry had to take some time away to consider everything, and not merely his relationship status.


	12. A Leap of Faith

The castle was just as huge as ever and yet seemed a lot smaller to Harry when he reached it. 

It was as welcoming as he remembered, however. Perhaps the people filling it were largely responsible for the feeling. It would certainly account for it being warmer than in his memory. Slowly walking the lane leading to the entrance doors, he breathed in deeply. Being certain of a decision didn’t make it automatically easy to put in practice.

Locating Salazar wasn’t hard. It came so effortlessly these days that it was a little concerning. Harry didn’t want to become dependent upon Salazar in any capacity and definitelynot to the point he needed to know where he was and what he was doing all the time. On his way to the wizard’s study, he didn’t meet anyone. The late hour could be held accountable for it but Harry didn’t really believe this. In this time, there wasn’t a curfew and students and teachers alike could usually be seen roaming the castle until midnight. Their absence was quite conspicuous and Harry could only guess his return hadn’t gone unnoticed. He shook his head and kept on walking with all the appearances of a serenity he was from feeling.

The heavy door leading to Salazar’s study was closed. Harry knew by experience that trying to open it without authorization could lead to unpleasant consequences. He stood there for a minute, letting the protective spells wash over him, determining if he were a threat. When the door finally opened, it was with a sensation of impending doom that he entered the room. 

He had been there a few times already, but for all the place’s apparent bareness and sobriety, every time he came back, he found something he hadn’t noticed previously. He used it as an excuse to look everywhere but at the dark-haired wizard.

Salazar made no move to distract him, patiently waiting for him to gather the nerve to talk. He sat quietly in his armchair, hands folded in his lap.

“You’ve noticed the Locket.”

“I have,” the older wizard confirmed, seemingly unfazed by the lack of greeting or preamble. “I believe we have already discussed this.”

“That’s because of the Locket I’m here.”

Salazar crossed his legs, preparing for a long tale. Watching it with careful eyes, Harry bit his lower lip, then took a seat in front of the Slytherin Lord.

“I told you there was a dark wizard in my time. What I didn’t tell you is that he was there long before my birth. My parents and lots of other people fought him, to no avail. He killed them when I was one year old and then tried to do the same to me. For reasons that are still unclear, it didn’t work and the killing curse was reflected back to him. I was then sent to my mother’s Muggle relatives who hated magic and more specifically me. 

This dark wizard managed to come back while I was at school and since I was the one who defeated him the first time, quite accidentally might I add, everyone decided it was my job to do it again. Besides, he was after me, to kill me for real this time. There was a full-blown war, which my side finally managed to win and I killed him. More or less.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, this wizard was your descendant. He tried to cheat death by putting bits of his soul in objects. I was one of them, created accidentally when he tried to kill me as a baby and the Locket was another. That’s how I can speak Parseltongue, by the way. Though he killed me a second time, which took care of destroying his soul shard in me, some things stayed behind. It’s rather the same with the Locket, as it’s a powerful magical artifact on its own right and even destroying it to kill the soul shard didn’t manage to get rid of your magic. I kept it and put it in a box, intent on forgetting about it. When I touched it again as I was cleaning my attics, it took me there, in order, I assume, to repair the damage that was inflicted upon it.”

Harry was breathless when he finished. He was empty. He would have expected relief, he would have expected feeling lighter, he would even have expected sadness and horror at reliving his story. He had no idea what he was actually feeling. Perhaps it was too much in one go for him to be able to properly process the situation, perhaps it didn’t hold the same emotional impact it once had, perhaps he just needed Salazar to react in one way or another.

The Slytherin Lord stayed silent for a long time, watching Harry with burning red eyes. After a while, Harry started to fidget in his seat, trying to find the comfortable position he hadn’t allowed himself at the beginning. Not having anything to hide anymore gave him a new confidence and he didn’t have to force himself to meet Salazar’s gaze.

Eventually, the older wizard spoke, slowly, clearly considering his words with utmost care.

“You honored me by sharing your story with me, Harry. However, I couldn’t help but notice there are many areas you didn’t detail and I have questions, if that would be acceptable.”

This… wasn’t what Harry expected. On the other hand, it was completely Salazar to refuse to form an opinion, or at least share it, without getting as much information as possible. It put things in perspective, in a way, forcing him to examine the situation with a clear head. Besides, Salazar was right. He had glossed over many details. Harry sighed, putting up a leg and hugging it.

“Sure. Go.”

***

Slytherin was appalled. The story would be unbelievable coming from anyone else but there were entirely too many signs which pointed in the direction of Harry telling the truth. In addition, the young wizard was a dreadful liar. 

His descendant had made himself guilty of so many crimes. He didn’t quite know what to think of it. What would have prompted him to go to such lengths? The Slytherin line was drawn to darkness, it was true, but he couldn’t imagine what circumstances would create this situation. He had little hope that Harry would be able to answer that question, but he had to try. He also needed to understand what would make these wizards from the future think a very young man would be the answer to their problem. And, last but not least, he still didn’t know what had really happened to his Locket. How could an object hold a piece of soul? What would anyone put a piece of their soul in an item in the first place for? More precisely, what did Harry mean by “cheating Death”?

He had so many questions and yet, he knew he had to tread carefully. Harry usually put up a good show of confidence, a byproduct of his experience, he supposed, but right now, he looked vulnerable and lonely. 

He leant forward, trying to catch Harry’s attention. He seemed to be lost in a world only he could see. Salazar had known wars and conflicts of diverse natures, he had known death and heartbreaks, he had learnt the hard way that magic couldn’t do everything. He had seen much and witnessed events he would rather forget. He knew he could share the younger wizard’s world, if only fleetingly.

“Harry, why did my descendant want to put a piece of his soul in the Locket?” Best to get Harry to answer the most pressing question before he shut on himself. Salazar had seen it many times in people who would speak their heart and then refuse to communicate for days afterwards.

To his surprise, the young man barked out a hollow laugh.

“Of course, that’s what you’d be interested in.” Harry shifted position once more, now hugging both his knees. “It’s called a Horcrux and it’s supposed to make you immortal. He made, including accidental me, seven Horcruxes. In the end, there wasn’t anything human or remotely sane left in him, if there was to start with.”

Salazar prided himself on his intelligence. He had hoped this would have been passed throughout generations. Apparently, he was too optimistic. What kind of idiot would do that?

Harry spoke again, eyes looking at nothing.

“In a way, I can understand him, you know. Not excuse what he did, that would be impossible and I don’t even want to try, but I understand a little bit. Someone asked me once if I felt sorry for him and I said no. Now, I do. He never knew any kind of family, he was raised by people who hated him, in the middle of a war where he went hungry more often than not and where he had to fear for his life every day. He was never wanted by anyone. Not even his parents. I can never forgive him for what he did, but I can feel compassion for him.”

That answered a few questions. And raised others.

“Your compassion honors you, Harry.” He genuinely thought it. In any other person, he would have interpreted it as a weakness. But how could he see it as weakness when Harry had displayed so much courage already? There were many questions left and he found that, suddenly, getting an answer immediately didn’t matter so much anymore. He would need one, eventually, but for now, he could wait.

                                                                                         ***                                                                                            

Rising on his feet, he slowly walked to Harry, making sure he saw him coming. He gave him his hands and, after a few seconds, Harry reached for them. He drew him to his feet and bent down until their forehead were touching. He then felt hands on his back. For the first time, Harry had initiated a contact. They stayed embraced for several minutes until Salazar led them to the larger couch where they sat, still holding each other. The Slytherin lord inhaled deeply, trying to absorb as much warmth as he could from Harry. He hadn’t known any intimate companionship for years and was only now realizing how much he yearned for contact.

Harry had been honest. Honesty had never come easily to Salazar Slytherin as his life had inevitably been filled with half-lies and technical truths. There were things he would rather forget and things he knew Harry would consider questionable at best. There were so many reasons to stay silent and yet there were some things Harry should know. Perhaps not everything. But enough.

“Harry, there are some things I need to tell you as well.”

This caught the younger man’s attention.

“First, I assume you have been wondering about my family. There are certainly enough rumours running around that you have heard of the infamous Slytherin family.

I married my wife twenty-four years ago. She was a gifted witch from a Leonese family. She was intelligent, brilliant at about everything she did, beautiful too. She was also in love with another man prior to our wedding. Our match had been decided by our respective parents and she had little choice but to comply. I discovered all this too late as I would have refused the match, had I known. At the time, I was an independent wizard and well-established. 

As you can imagine, our first year together was difficult. I did everything I could think of to ease her life and she tried really hard herself. She was a good person and didn’t hold me responsible for the situation. We had children together, a boy, named Lucian and then a girl, Demetra. I had heirs, which was the point of this marriage and she wished to regain her freedom. We couldn’t legally part ways, however. There had to be a breaking of our wedding bond. As you probably know, such a breaking can occur spontaneously only in case of grievous offense against the bond. We set to force the bond to break without putting anyone at fault.”

Salazar paused, grimacing slightly at the memory.

“It didn’t work then?”

“Oh, yes, it did. We managed to break the bond by mutual agreement, without committing any offense. We were both, after all, greatly magically gifted. We had only overlooked a slight detail. People, including her family, thought one of us had and wouldn’t accept our denegation. The situation degenerated to the point her family locked her up to force her to confess she had seen her lover again. Which she hadn’t. Now, it sounds like a bad romance song but we had to fake her death to get her free. From there, many people are convinced that I actually killed her in retaliation for her crimes. This didn’t work in my favour on the political scene and did some serious damage to my reputation. Unfortunately, I took an unbreakable vow never to reveal her continued existence to her family, which tied my hands quite neatly. Additionally, I’ve no wish to cause her harm.”

“So, to sum it up, you have an ex wife, two children and a reputation shot to hell and you’re worried this is going to make me run?” Unexplainably, Harry was sporting a bright grin.

“From this question, I deduce that you’re actually not going to do that,” Slytherin said wryly.

Forget the large smile, Harry was now deadly serious.

“I am going to make my life with you. It’s nice to have clarifications and to know you’re not a murderer, but I don’t think that, at that point, you could manage to make me run.”

This was…direct. Usually, when Harry was that direct, he was speaking impulsively, driven by his emotions. Here and now, the certainty reflected in his eyes spoke of hours of careful considering.

It was a remarkable gift Salazar wasn’t entirely sure he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this chapter but I didn't want to delay it more and my brain isn't capable of working right now. My job used it all up :(


	13. Ghostly foresight

There were… a lot of people. Harry was used to large crowds and, though he didn’t particularly enjoy them, he tolerated them well enough. He was just surprised. It wasn’t even a legal wedding ceremony, merely an informal bonding. For someone whose reputation now and in the future was of being cold and dangerous, there were far more guests than Harry expected. Were they here for political reasons? At any rate, they did seem decently happy, he mused, though not entirely certain what to make of him. He hid a cautious smile. He didn’t quite know what to make of himself most of the time either.

He brushed his robes, smoothing any potential crease and turned back to face his and Salazar’s guests. _Their_ guests.

He had mastered the art of mingling a few years ago, non- linearly thinking. He took pride in his ability to greet and have a few words with everyone, no matter how draining he found the whole thing. From the limited vision he had at Hogwarts Castle, he hadn’t realized how complex and diversified the wizarding medieval society was. Power and knowledge seemed to be a more sought after currency than money and Harry was surprised to see quite a lot of what Helga had called commoners the first time they met. What surprised him most, however, was the large proportion of foreigners. It _was_ the wizarding world, true, and it did mean travels were easier than in the muggle world, but it was certainly underdeveloped compared to what Harry had known. Yet, there were people coming from all around the world to witness their union and the Asian man (Kiyso, from the kingdom of Pagan, wherever that was, Salazar had introduced him) in deep conversation with his soon-to-be bondmate wasn’t even the most astonishing.

Everywhere he was watching people were talking to each other, moving with certainty from one group to another. He had certainly integrated better than he expected at first, but it still wasn’t his place. These people who, for a lot of them, hardly or not at all knew each other were perfectly at ease. He had never felt his alienness so acutely. He sighed, knowing this would probably go on for the rest of his days. Clearly people could somehow sense that he was different. Either that or he was projecting his feelings.

Harry turned around, intent on finding some place to hide a bit better when he bumped into a rather burly man, richly dressed and aggressive-looking. He was walking backwards, beckoning to a young woman with striking grey eyes. When he faced Harry, the young man drew a breath, incapable of hiding his reaction. He knew who this man was. He had seen him before. Only a lot thinner. And bloodier. It made him do a double take at the woman at his side. Yes, her features were unmistakably Rowena’s. Nervously, Harry forced himself to smile and greet them, apologizing for the incident. The noise from the party had been relegated to the background, one he was barely aware of.

They both narrowed their eyes in so similar a fashion that, if the situation hadn’t been so tragic, he would have laughed. Eventually, the woman, Helena if he remembered properly, smiled and said:

“We haven’t been properly introduced yet but may I assume you are Master Evans? My mother’s description of you was particularly vivid.”

“I am. And then I must assume you are Mistress Helena Ravenclaw?” Rowena had never mentioned her daughter and, quite honestly, Harry had all but forgotten about her. Now, he was curious about that overlook.

She merely smiled in approval, a trait he recognized from her mother and turned towards her companion.

“May I introduce a dear friend of mine, Thegn Aesc Alwin?” Neither her voice nor her body language betrayed any kind of unease. She was, as far as Harry could tell, telling the truth. Obviously, they had, at one point, been friendly. Clearly, the story she would tell him, centuries from this day, would be missing a few points. How important were these Harry wasn’t sure, but the need to interfere with the timeline had never been so burning. He breathed deeply, wondering how he could make such an important decision in a split second.

How oblivious had he been in not preparing for such an occurrence.

He looked up at them, and for an instant, he could see them both, not tangible and full of life but ghostly and sad. He wasn’t meant to change the future, was he? If Helena hadn’t stolen her mother’s diadem, things could have turned very differently for a young Tom Riddle and himself. If he did say something, would it work? Would it really change anything? Or would history find a way of righting itself? Or maybe it could make things even worse? It should be giving him a headache and instead only succeeded in scaring him. This was only about two people clearly in love. He was stuck here and then. How would he react when confronted to something a lot more serious?

He must have paled because her expression shifted in something compassionate and slightly calculating.

“Are you feeling poorly, Master Evans? This is an important day and we are monopolising you. I apologise.”

“No, no I’m feeling fine, thank you. Just a bit dizzy for a moment. If you’ll excuse me…”

There wasn’t a sound Harry could hear over the rush of blood in his ears. He needed to sit down somewhere quiet and compose himself.

He felt a hand suddenly on his shoulder, warm and heavy. Turning around, he saw Salazar watching him with concern in his eyes.

“What is wrong? You are pale as a ghost.”

Harry laughed. Really, he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t a joyous laugh, but a desperate sound, and from his expression, Salazar didn’t like it.

“What happened? Did someone say something they shouldn’t have? Have you changed your mind?”

Salazar and his questions. He would never change. Not that Harry wanted him to. Just, sometimes, his questions were too… well, prying.

“No! It’s just… I have met someone I will know as a ghost in the future and it unsettled me, that’s all.”

Lying to Salazar was never a good idea and they were getting bonded today. Bad taste and all that.

Salazar frowned. “One of the guests here is going to meet an end so tragic it will warrant them becoming a ghost?”

“Two, actually. Look, it just surprised me. There is nothing that can be done about it. They are going to play quite an important role in the future and, well, saying anything that could prevent the circumstances of their deaths wouldn’t be very wise.” He couldn’t help the bitterness creeping in his voice.

***

Narrowing his eyes, Salazar watched him with intense focus, his red eyes burning into Harry’s soul.

“You have thought about it at length, haven’t you?” he said slowly, letting his voice trail as he took in the possible implications of what Harry had just told him.

“I am from the future,” was the hissed answer. “I need to take care of what I’m doing. If I change just one, inconsequent thing now, who can tell what’s going to happen because of it ten centuries later? Believe me, I want to do something. But I can’t. It’s too important!”

“You came here and we are getting bonded. I would say it’s a big change already,” he tried pointing out reasonably. He wasn’t sure Harry was really accessible to logic at the moment. He stroked lightly Harry’s back, thinking furiously. He should have seen this coming. Actually he had. He had kept expecting it. And it never came. Now, it was long overdue. He could barely imagine how hard it must be for someone to lose everything and get stuck in an era with completely different rules. Harry was entitled to a strong reaction. Still, the time was hardly appropriate. Besides, what was it about two of the guests becoming ghosts? Who had Harry been talking to? He scanned the crowd quickly, assessing everyone.

Not much to do about it right now, unfortunately. What mattered at the moment was to get Harry back on track. And as happy as possible. Salazar didn’t have any illusion. Harry didn’t belong here, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying. He embraced the younger wizard, trying to convey his love and his understanding. After a while, he felt Harry reciprocate and they stayed locked together for a minute, in a comfortable silence.

***

The ceremony was simple. They weren’t getting married, no one really knew Harry and none of them had a taste for fancy functions. Instead of this, it was… genuine, Harry decided, as he stared into Salazar’s eyes. When they had first met, all these months ago, he would never have imagined he could witness so much sincerity in his eyes. Especially not when they were so bright they seemed to be bleeding with it. This honesty was only for him. It felt powerful.

It was with matching sincerity he spoke his own vows and gripped Salazar’s hands, the bonding spell caging them in a fiery light reminiscent of the unbreakable vow, but softer somehow, compelling instead of punishing. As it dispelled, Harry refused to move. He was happy and comfortable.

He felt like he had found a place to stay.

***

Standing in front of their now shared bed was…strange. He didn’t really know what to expect about it. Maybe asking first would have been smarter but he hadn’t. Well… going with the flow had always been his preferred method, hadn’t it?

It didn’t prevent the cold spreading all over his body. Anticipation was there, yes, but something else as well, something ugly that was rearing its head in his guts, telling him there was no way this could work. What had he been thinking? How could he have ever hoped to manage a new life in medieval times?

For the second time tonight, a calming hand was laid on him. This time, it was at his nape and he could feel it going up, tangling in his hair, soothing, steadying. It felt good. More than good, actually. Perhaps Harry should have been worried such a simple, affectionate touch made him react so much. Right now, he didn’t care. He relished the caress, soaking up the warmth; let it spread through his whole body. He turned around and leaned into Salazar’s embrace, returning it with more heat than he had initially intended. They stayed in that position for a while, stroking idly each other’s back. Salazar dropped his face in Harry’s hair, then lower, letting his lips trail across his forehead, his temple, his cheek, until he reached his mouth. He gripped Harry’s head with both hands, without aggressiveness. Harry expected Salazar to kiss him. He merely watched his eyes for a long minute before putting his lips against Harry’s delicately, a chaste kiss that had him clench his hands in frustration. Harry rose on tiptoe, wound his hands though Salazar’s hair and drew him until they crashed together.

It wasn’t passion as he had heard it described. It was a taste of home. It was warm and strangely unsatisfying. He wanted more. He wanted Salazar to share himself with him and he wanted to do the same. With a smile, he undid his robe, letting it fall at his feet. Salazar mirrored his move, reached for hands and tugged until Harry fell against him and on the bed. Despite the fire, the air was chilly against Harry’s burning skin. He sought shelter alongside Salazar, tangling their legs together. With a laugh, Salazar let him do it then rolled him until Harry was on his back and he was lying on top of him. Harry echoed his laugh and wriggled until they were both comfortably set in the middle of the bed.

A hand on his face. Salazar was smoothing a stray lock out of his eyes. Which reminded him… he had actually never seen Salazar’s hair out of its clasp. Undoing the clasp made it fall and frame the Slytherin Lord’s face, lending it a darker appearance which would have probably unsettled him out in any other circumstance. Right now, it went for… dangerously seductive. Just thinking the words made him laugh again, softly. He had to remember this one for later.

As they melted into one another, they locked eyes. He could drown in that sea of red.

He would rather use it as an anchor.

***

Waking up together was a new experience. It was kind of nice, too. Warm and comfortable and… wait! Harry stifled a groan as everything crashed on him. He was now kind of married but not really to Voldemort’s ancestor, in love with him and they had to get up soon or someone would come and find them and that wouldn’t do at all. Medieval times were not as uncivilized as he had first feared, but really, these people had no conception of privacy.

Case in point: Salazar. _Lord Salazar Slytherin was a cuddler_. And Harry couldn’t get out of his embrace without waking him up. Harry smiled briefly in the dark. This was prime blackmail material. He felt a pang of sadness at the realization he would never be able to share this piece of information with people who could understand how extraordinary it was.

He turned in Salazar’s arms as much as possible and slipped his hands behind his back, snuggling against him. There was no reason not to enjoy the situation to its fullest.

***

The first time he had seen him, he had thought him small, tiny even. Now he knew there was strength and stamina in the small frame. He actually had to grip him hard to keep him in his arms. It was their first night together. Salazar Slytherin wasn’t a man prone to self-indulgence, but some things did require to be thoroughly enjoyed. Resting next to Harry went beyond mere enjoyment, anyway. He felt protective. Had felt protective since he had seen him shivering in the garden. It was getting steadily worse. He knew people thought he never cared and he knew they were all wrong. He cared about many things and many people. He cared about his friends, his school, his students…

But they were right on one point, though. He had never cared –loved– this deeply. He sighed, gathering Harry closer to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So first I'm sorry about the wait. I had the deadline from hell to meet in my job, then a move to another city and a lot of things to learn in a very short time. On the bright side, I now spend a lot of time in public transports. That means a lot of time to plan stories...  
> Historical fact of the day : the Pagan Kingdom was more or less medieval Burma. (Anyone more versed in local history, feel free to correct me, I went with what was in my old school historical atlas)  
> Historical fact of the day n°2 : the British Isles don't have the same definition of feudalism as the rest of the world.


	14. Creating consequences

Desk duties never changed. Strangely enough, Harry managed to like them a little bit more now than he did before. Than he would in the future. Oh, this was a nightmare. He didn’t think he would ever get past the hurdle of putting things in their proper tense.

No matter. The point was, he actually enjoyed what he was doing, even if it were a bit of an…acquired taste. He didn’t know if it was because he was older and far less interested in crawling all over the country under the rain or because he was doing something useful.

It had taken him years to decide to involve himself in politics as more than merely Lord Slytherin’s consort. Years to ponder how dangerous it was to chance changing history. Years to weight all the possibilities, wondering if, in his desire to improve things, he wouldn’t make them worse.

He put back his quill on the desk. He hadn’t seen one in all his time here, but it was simply impossible for him to work on a transportable escritoire. Besides, it did look a tad more imposing when he was receiving people. He had seen the look of interest and knew it would be a short time before they started flourishing. Salazar had expressed his own interest and was currently having one made. Harry smiled. Of all the changes he was struggling to introduce, it was the involuntary one that passed the easiest.

Ah well. If the past years had taught him anything, it was the faculty to give time to time. He had lived most of his life in a state of perpetual running, jumping from one problem to another. He was now thinking long-term. Hermione would be proud. His smile grew larger. He would always miss her. And Ron. And Teddy. And several others. But it no longer brought the same pang of sadness it used to.

All in all, life was good. Or would be if people stopped trying to kill him. His smile disappeared, replaced by cold hardness. Trying to kill him wasn’t the problem. He was, unfortunately, used to it. What he minded were the collateral damages. He often doubled as a teacher and Salazar was a full-time one. They had kids around them most of the time. Apparently, disregard for life here and then extended to children as well. He wasn’t sure he could ever get used to that one. So far no one had gotten killed but there had been a couple of close calls which had almost convinced Harry to give up. Only Salazar’s challenge to do everything better and his own fighting instincts had kept him going.

He stretched his legs and straightened his back, wishing the day was over already so he could join Salazar. The older wizard had been more touchy than usual lately, probably in honor of all the assassination attempts on Harry. He couldn’t say he was complaining.

But first he needed to get some work done. Which meant meeting with Andel Marces. Harry wondered if the man would give him troubles. He was usually overly aggressive but his bark was worse than his bite. It was the quiet ones he had to mind.

***

Harry sighed, putting his head in his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. The quiet ones. Well, he would have done without Marces’injurious innuendos. Why anyone would care about ruining his efforts to promote care for orphans and the likes was beyond him, but apparently some people found that really offensive and Marces was one of them.

He didn’t actually believe Marces was acting of his own initiative. The man was far too unintelligent to be a real political opponent. He feared others were using him as a mean to keep him busy, too busy to fight on all fronts. He had other, more polemical activities. Changes in inheritance laws never made everyone happy and his desire to spread the access to education for all magical children wasn’t exactly popular. It was probably the root of many of the assassination attempts on him, though no one had claimed them, which was actually worrisome. In addition, no one had tried to oppose him overtly in council on these subjects. Yet. Yes. The more he thought about it, the more he believed it was what was happening.

He crossed his hands in front of him, slipping reflexively in an appeasing stance, even if it were for his own benefit. He had become a politician out of necessity but it would never be his favourite method of dealing with problems, though he accepted that it was a good way of dealing with a lot of problems. Going around and destroying problems usually didn’t erase them. It only worked with crazy Dark Lords and too old basilisks.

He gave a faint smile at that. Salazar had turned positively murderous when Harry had told him the story.

Salazar. Suddenly, he felt the need to spend some time with him.

***

As he stepped into the cool castle, Harry let the wards wash over him and welcome him. They were made of his and Salazar’s magic combined and the result was… powerful.

He shrugged off his cloak, handing it to Myndy. The well-kept house elf was a far cry from those he had known younger, more restrained in a way, though just as helpful.

“Thank you, Myndy. Has anything happened in my absence?”

The house elf shook her tiny head, the heavy cloak swarming her.

“Master Salazar is in the study, Master Harry. He had been there the whole day. He hasn’t even eaten.” 

Why wasn’t he even surprised?

“Thank you. I shall make sure he lets go of his research long enough to eat.”

“Thank you, Master Harry!” Myndy’s sincere eagerness and care made Harry smile.

Home was a wonderful place to be.

He approached the study with caution. Experience had taught him a busy Salazar was less than welcoming and the objects of his studies had an unpleasant tendency to explode at the slightest stirring. Without warning. Harry was confident in his ability to raise a shield in time but he’d rather do without that kind of stress at home.

Everything seemed quiet. He prodded the door lightly, giving the additional ward a careful push to let Salazar know he was there.

He pushed the heavy wooden doors open, wrinkling his nose at the stench of an unventilated room. How long exactly had Salazar stayed holed up in there?

“You can come in, Harry. It’s not likely to explode anytime soon.”

Harry closed the door back and strode carefully through the room.

“How reassuring, love. And in the next hour?”

The older wizard turned around to watch his bondmate with a shrewd smile. 

“I make no promise.”

Harry encircled his waist with his arms, relishing the warmth and support seeping through their embrace.

“What is it anyway?”

He felt a hand at his nape, lightly stroking his hair.

“I’ll make you a deal, dear heart. If you tell me what is wrong, I’ll tell you what I’m working on. Does it sound fair to you?”

Harry tried and failed to take a step back.

“What makes you think there is anything wrong?”

He watched in fascination as Salazar narrowed his eyes imperceptibly. It was subtle, yes, but it changed his whole face.

“You are home very early, your hair is all upset and you have lain on me longer than usual. Which, all added, means that you’re tired and likely bothered by something.”

Harry shook his head in wonder.

Salazar raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Am I wrong?” His stance suggested quite strongly he didn’t believe he was and Harry couldn’t blame him for that. After all, he was actually right.

He leant back in the proffered embrace more heavily, shaking his head wordlessly once more.

After a minute, Salazar steered him towards the bench and tugged them both down.

“Alright. Now, tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired of dealing with the same stupidity everyday, is all.”

“As you have been for the past years. What happened today specifically?”

“I… you’re right. Marces came to my office today. He wanted to tell me the same thing he has already told me repeatedly. But this time, I got the distinct impression he was there as a deflector for someone else. Someone is drawing his strings and I really want to know who.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked him directly,” Salazar replied a bit ironically.

“I did consider it. Surprise effect and all… maybe it would have worked. I don’t know.”

“Good to know I have managed to teach you at least a few things about politics.”

Harry punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m perfectly capable of managing. I did that for years before even meeting you.”

Salazar gave a mock shudder.

“Then it is a wonder the world was still standing. Though a few good things could be said about your direct approach.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Ah…? Such as…?”

“Why don’t we go to a more comfortable place and dissert at length on the interest of a direct approach?”

Harry laughed and jumped to his feet, tugging his bondmate by his hands.

“A most excellent idea, my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. *Prepares for lengthy apology*. I'm soooo sorry about the wait. RL is kinda hard these days, I'm exhausted beyond belief and I can't find time for anything personal. However, I received several really kind comments lately that decided me to find the time for a chapter, come hell or high water.  
> As stated previously, right now things are pretty rough and I felt the need for a bit of fluff. Hopefully you didn't mind too much?  
> On a more positive note, I managed to squeeze some time yesterday to watch Fantastic Beasts with my sister and that might have been instrumental too in my posting a chapter. Feel free to come and tell me what you thought of it if you've been to watch.  
> Last but not least, the medieval fact of the day (because that has somehow become a tradition when I wasn't looking). So today, it's about furniture. (I'm talking European furniture here, bc that's what I know and I'd love if someone could tell me about other parts of the world). So. Desks. No real record of them before the late 12th century and frankly, nothing you could compare to the massive and ostentatious desks one would find today in a similar setting. Actually, the closest you'd find would be carrel desks. You know, those awful cubicle desks you find in open spaces at work. Medieval invention.  
> Also bench. A bench is neither comfy nor romantic but sofa weren't invented, to the best of my knowledge, before Renaissance. Multiple types of couches existed since Antiquity but this is medieval Scotland. Bench it is. Probably with some kind of furs on it.


	15. Research

“Salazar?”

The wizard hid a smile at the cautious question. He did protect his work well but as far as he knew, no one had ever gotten killed because of his wards. Painfully injured, yes, but this was clearly overreacting. And from Rowena, of all people.

“Hello, dear. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?

“As ironic as ever, I see. It’s a wonder Harry tolerates living with you. Exhausting is what you are, Salazar. Besides, are you aware it’s a very sunny day?”

Salazar tilted his head at the non sequitur.

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

She tucked back a lock of hair behind her ear before answering.

“Because you are staying cooped up inside like an oyster inside its shell. The sun won’t harm you, you know.”

Salazar smiled minutely. Rowena was always such a delight to converse with. Perhaps he ought to do it more often. She was right; he was getting cooped up inside, strange imagery aside.

“I’ll have you know, my lady, that I have a very fair complexion and tend to burn easily in the sun.”

She waved a negligent hand.

“Well, then, Potion Master, why don’t you invent something to protect your skin? A lotion or something to that effect?”

That was a thought. Maybe a mix of almond oil and beeswax? And something else… Taneef nut?

He was dragged out of his thoughts by an impatient voice.

“I didn’t mean right now. It’s early spring, you won’t burn. And if you indeed do, I’m sure Harry will make his pleasure to apply a generous dose of soothing salve on you.”

And here people thought Rowena didn’t quite live in this world.

***

She had been right. He had missed seeing the sun and feeling the light caress of the breeze on his skin. They walked for a while on the path in silence.

Salazar broke first.

“Are you going to tell me why you are here? Or should I divine it? You well should know I have no talent whatsoever for this noble art.”

She looked at him earnestly.

“No, you haven’t. But you have the gift of logic, Salazar. Is it telling you anything?”

“Your reluctance to start speaking is telling me something. Is this about Harry?”

She nodded, her eyes clouding slightly.

His blood froze instantly.

“What? What is wrong with him?” 

“Nothing.” She shook her head. Locks of hair fell around her, a side effect of her stark refusal to wear any kind of headdress.

“Speak clearly,” he ordered, breathing deeply to try and regain some measure of calm.

“He has been doing fine, these past years, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.” In the name of magic, what was she talking about?

“He is happy. Quite different from the troubled young man we met back then.”

Salazar had a sinking feeling he knew where she was heading.

“I remember the path in front of him when he first came. It’s different, now, you understand?”

The dark-haired wizard nodded, a veil of dread spreading over his eyes.

“There is only so much playing with time it’s wise to do, Salazar.” She was utterly, unbearably, serious now, the lack of a headdress revealing her eyes, so full of sincerity. So full of certainty.

The warm sun turned cold on his skin and the breeze was howling. It dried the single tear escaping his eye before he could even notice it.

***

Harry stepped out of the outer ward to find Slytherin fortress just as unwelcome as it ever was. All his efforts to convince Salazar to do some decorating had been for naught and had only met his confused stare.

“Harry, this is a fortress. It’s supposed to look forbidding and imposing. It’s supposed to deter enemies from attacking and protect us in case they are stupid enough to do it anyway. As for having snakes everywhere, it’s the symbol of my house. What should I put up instead? Lilacs?”

At least, he had accepted –grudgingly– to ward the castle off against the drafty currents constantly wafting through it. And a few more tapestries had managed to give it a more homely feeling.

Because that was what it was. 

Home.

Harry shed his cloak and handed it to Mindy who took it with her usual smile. 

“Master Salazar is in his study and said he wasn’t to be troubled, Master Harry.”

“Did he, now? And how long has he been there?”

The small house elf twisted her hands nervously.

“Since Mistress Rowena came. Just after you left for the Oxford meeting, Master Harry. And he hasn’t eaten anything since.”

Now that was enough. Salazar spent enough time lecturing him on staying healthy and wasn’t even capable of setting an example. 

Harry marched to the study, slowing down barely long enough for the wards to recognize him.

And stopped dead in his tracks.

Salazar raised his head, looking at him, a bit of red chalk in his hand.

“I hope you have an explanation for this,” Harry said conversationally. His voice sounded flippant to his ears but it didn’t manage to cover the pounding of his heart, nor the pain where his fingernails were biting the skin of his palms.

“There is an explanation for everything, Harry. Though you wouldn’t like it.”

“Tell me you’re not working on Horcruxes!” This time, it was a supplication.

Something passed through Salazar’s eyes, too quickly for Harry to identify it.

“I am.”

Harry took a step back, all the air punched out of him. He blinked in quick repetition to try and keep the tears at bay, folding his hands behind his back to hide their shaking.

“Why? Why would you do that when you know it can’t end well?”

Despite his dust-covered clothes, Salazar looked as composed as ever as he answered: “You are correct. It cannot end well.”

Damn him and his cryptic habits! Harry knew he had lost the battle and the tears stung his eyes.

“I won’t watch someone I love self-destruct, Salazar. Think of all the work we have done to create a better future. Will you destroy it like it’s nothing? I can’t stand here and let you do that.”

“Ah? What are you going to do, then? Fight me?”

The sarcasm was heavy in his voice, dripping malice, barely hiding the burning hunger in his eyes.

Harry felt for the stone wall behind him like a blind man seeking support and direction.

He shook his head silently, looking for any trace of his lover in the stranger he was now beholding.

He found none.

“I won’t fight you. I would rather kill you than watch you do that to yourself. To us. Please don’t make me.”

He received no answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry (not sorry) about the cliffhanger! I know it's a sad one. If you're having troubles following what's happening, don't worry. Harry is lost too.  
> In other news, we are so very close to the end... Actually, I was writing so much I had to break it somewhere, which means I have a good half of the next chapter already written so this is me hoping to be able to post the next chapter in the next few days.


	16. One last time

Harry watched his milk in a daze. He wasn’t hungry. Actually, the thought of food was enough to turn his stomach.

What the hell was Salazar thinking? What had brought this on? Had it been going for a while and he had been too blind to notice?

So many questions and no answer. He let his heavy head fall on his crossed arms, trying to catch a few minutes of rest after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning.

He jumped halfway out of his skin when a hand started to rub his back through his robe. As he was regaining his bearing, another started to caress his hair.

What the hell? He twisted from under the arm that was holding him against the table and reared back.

“Bad night, Harry?” Salazar’s voice was as courteous as ever, warm and loving and… just so Salazar that Harry could have convinced himself that last night had only been a particularly vivid nightmare if his pounding headache hadn’t reminded him quite painfully of the reason behind its existence.

He could merely watch him with his mouth open.

“I thought we could get out a bit today. The weather seems to be quite pleasing and we could all do with a bit of sun. Besides, I don’t believe you have anything scheduled today?”

“No…no,” Harry answered faintly through the blood rushing to his head. 

“Perfect. Now eat. You’ll feel better and I’ll give you a few drops of my new headache reliever.”

Probably misunderstanding –purposely, Harry added in his mind a bit vindictively–Harry’s stunned face, he added: “Don’t worry. You’ll be my first tester beside myself but I’m reasonably certain it’s not toxic. It shapes to be much more efficient than the previous one.”

Harry made a strangled noise which could pass for agreement. Salazar certainly seemed to interpret it as such and dug through his own breakfast with energy.

***

Salazar was right. It was indeed pleasant. Harry’s concerns weren’t diminished in the sunlight but they seemed farther, less grievous. Or maybe it was the food. Or Salazar’s suspiciously loving behavior.

Seriously, what was going on?

“Salazar?” he started a bit hesitantly.

“Yes, dear heart?”

“Is everything fine?”

Salazar didn’t even break his pace. He closed his hand tighter around Harry’s and kept on walking.

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you sure?” Harry insisted. Not looking at him was uncharacteristic for Salazar, but then again, so was holding hands.

“Everything is fine. It’s a beautiful day, I have my lovely bondmate near me, what could be wrong?” Salazar turned around at last to look at Harry. The younger wizard was struck by the vision he offered. Salazar seemed to have aged a decade in a few days.

“You don’t look fine,” he challenged back. “Please, Salazar, tell me what’s wrong. Don’t shut me off.”

“I am not shutting you off, my love.” With that, his thumb stroked a small path inside Harry’s hand.

“Well, it certainly looks like it. You’re not trying to protect me or something?” he added suspiciously.

Salazar didn’t answer.

Harry felt his heart sinking.

“You’ve never been able to lie properly to me. It’s that, isn’t it? What are you protecting me from? The fact you’re seeking immortality?” he concluded, bitterness creeping up in his voice.

Salazar turned his head to watch him, face unreadable.

“Say something, please. Tell me I’m wrong!” 

“You are wrong, Harry.”

“Are you merely saying that because I asked you to?” he replied tartly.

“I am not. I am not seeking immortality, Harry, at least not in the way you are fearing. I am too old, too much in love with you and I hope too wise to do this.”

Harry breathed deeply. It didn’t sound like a lie. It didn’t mean it was the whole truth. Salazar was particularly expert at using the truth to let people understand something completely different. Still, it settled him somehow.

“Then why are you working on this?”

“I will tell you one day. I promise. But for now, I would like us to enjoy our time together. It is so rare we have some proper time with just the both of us…” His voice was genuinely wistful, Harry decided, and it did absolutely nothing to reassure him. However, he knew his bondmate well. He would tell him the truth on his own terms on his own time.

Enjoying their time together was indeed a marvelous idea. 

***

Harry shivered. The sun had disappeared behind the castle leaving behind the coldness of early spring. He scooted closer to Salazar, nuzzling the rapidly cooling skin.

“You are wearing it.”

Harry raised his head slightly to peer at his bondmate.

“I’m sorry?”

“The necklace I gave you for your birthday.”

He had stopped wearing the Locket continuously. It served only as a memento of the precarious balance between what he had lost and what he had gained. The necklace Salazar was mentioning was actually a much more joyful reminder, an acknowledgement of the ten years he had spent here and then. 

He had reached the age of thirty five year old. A wonder really, when there was a time he hadn’t even hoped survive until adulthood. That too, was to be celebrated.

He smiled.

“I do. It’s beautiful. You chose well, love.”

“I did.” An enigmatic sparkle lit up Salazar’s eyes. He stroke lazily Harry’s back then sat up rather abruptly.

“It’s getting cold. Let’s get back inside.”

“Is this the same person who repeatedly nagged me about using heating charms?” Harry replied with a laugh.

His bondmate mock grimaced and proceeded to launch a tickle attack.

The walk back to the castle was merry and warm despite the sun’s disappearance.

Stepping inside didn’t feel like a curtain of doom. Harry smiled at the thought. Obviously, something of his modern muggle education would always stay with him, no matter how long he lived in medieval Scotland.

“Feeling up to some working out together?” Salazar’s grin was infectious. Despite his tiredness, Harry felt adrenaline and renewed energy coursing through his veins and whipped out his wand. 

“Right here?”

And now his expression was comical.

“If we do it ‘right here’ as you put it, dear, you are the one repairing the damage.”

“The sparring room it is, then,” Harry agreed cheerfully.

Maybe he could work out some frustration this way.

In the evening, they went to bed together and held each other through the night. The glimpses of sadness Harry had gotten, he attributed them to exhaustion. And if Salazar held him a bit too tightly, he didn’t comment on it.

Nothing would chase away his disquiet, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So I owe you all wonderful readers an apology. RL happened and some compromises had to be made in order to survive the past months. They are now over and I can safely say we are close to the end with this story (like 2-3 more chapters). I'm going to do my utmost to update more regularly until we reach the end, though.  
> However, I'm still very tired and dealing with pretty bad headaches, so I can't guarantee the writing quality, let alone the proofreading quality. In addition, this is pretty short, I know.  
> BUT. Good news : I'm already 2K into the next chapter and counting. I always cut some stuff while editing but still...  
> On the bright side of things, Salazar didn't lie, I promise. As for the rest, Harry will understand what's going on next chapter. They just needed some downtime before the angst (yes there is more angst coming).

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to say Hi or something, here is [my Tumblr](http://cuddlykoalas.tumblr.com/)


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